There's Nothin', Nothin' But You
by shesnotalone
Summary: A lot of time has passed since the attack on New York City in 2012, and although things have changed in ten years, some people stick with what they know ... or who they know. One author dares to go where the Russo Brothers were too scared to go. A series of 16 interconnected one-shots featuring Steve and Nat. Whole story is Rated T, but some clearly marked M moments.
1. prologue

**I haven't posted in a really, really long time, so please be nice to me. This story will be 15 chapters (maybe 16) and all the chapters do connect, they are just not necessarily in chronological order. It's like a lot of one-shots combined into one story. I am trying to make the characters as true to their personalities as possible, but I have taken a few ... ****_creative_**** liberties. I am guilty of ignoring the things that prevent my faves from being together.**

*.*.*.*

**prologue**

"Did you ever think you'd get to this point?"

"You gotta be a little more specific hun," she giggled at her friend.

"You know what I mean," her friend replied. "Personally, I don't believe that we're finally here."

"Uhm, excuse me?"

"I mean I'm not surprised you're here getting ready to say 'I do' in a white dress to the love of your life. I'm just surprised it took so long," her friend shrugged as she said this.

She couldn't deny her friend, mostly because she wasn't wrong. The idea of 'tying the knot' had been bouncing around in their heads for years. She knew it had been in hers since their first _real_ kiss, and he had sheepishly admitted to wanting to marry her after the first time he thought he was going to lose her to some fucking aliens.

"I think we wanted to wait until we had everyone back, you know? But as time drew on, the only thing that changed was that everyone just kept getting older. I'm older, he's older, our son is older," she looked down at her dozing boy. "We realized it was unnecessary to keep waiting. Of course we want our _whole_ family there, but that … isn't going to happen."

"It isn't an outrageous desire, it makes perfect sense to me." Her friend hugged her with one arm. "I'm just happy that you're happy."

They hugged each other and attempted to hold off on the crying as there was still an hour before the ceremony even began.

Her friend had left her alone a few minutes after their conversation and she decided to have a small snack. As she rummaged around the kitchen and grabbed the bread and peanut butter, she didn't hear him enter the room.

"You know, I'd offer to cook you dinner, but it looks like you've already got that covered."

She could hear not only the smirk in his voice, but also the love and admiration he had for her. She didn't turn to look at him. "I thought the groom wasn't supposed to see the bride before the ceremony. Bad luck or something like that, hmm?"

"You know," he whispered in her ear and wrapped his arms around her waist, "I think we've had enough bad luck for a lifetime. Let's live a little."

She laughed lightly and cut the sandwich in half. "Isn't that what we're doing with the whole getting-married thing?"

Taking half of the sandwich in one of his hands and turning her to look at him with the other, he looked her up and down. Even after everything they'd been through, she still amazed him everyday. She'd never worn white before, which led him to believe the white dress signified the utmost importance of this day in her life. He disregarded the question she asked and kissed her soundly before taking a bite of his half. "You're so beautiful."

"Careful captain, we may not make it to the ceremony if you keep looking at me like that," she teased.

"Now that I may not mind," he chuckled lowly and brushed his lips against hers again.

Five years.

It had been five years since the snap that changed their lives forever. Half of their family somehow vanished instantaneously, but soon their family gained a new member. Moving on from their supposed death was so mentally frustrating, so emotionally draining, so physically taxing. The comforted each other and found solace in one another more than ever before.

Their son had been a happy, somehow unreal, accident.

Yes, they were going to get married and continue fighting the good fight against rogue nations and overbearing aliens, and continue searching for a way to bring everyone back, if that was even possible.

There was the sound of two short buzzes next to them, the house system's way of telling them there was someone at the gate. Assuming it was someone who had actually been invited to their wedding, she waved her hand to open the visual.

"Hello! Hello, it's Scott Lang! Ant-Man! From Germany? The airport fight?"

They looked at each other for a moment and checked the date on the message.

4/26/2023.

Yeah, that was today.

The message was not five years old.

"I think I know a way to fix everything!"

They had assumed Scott vanished with everyone else. But there he was, speaking quickly about things they'd never thought of and wildly waving his arms about at the front gate of the Avengers Compound.

_Well I guess we're _not_ getting married today._


	2. two - we were on fire

**Thank you for all the story likes and follows! This is the "true" beginning of the story. The idea for this came to me and evolved every time I listened to P!nk's _Beautiful Trauma_. Therefore, the chapters are organized around the lyrics of the song. (I'm a songfic-y type of person.)**

*.*.*.*

**two — we were on fire**

_we were on fire  
__I slashed your tires  
__it's like we burned so bright, we burned out  
__I made you chase me  
__I wasn't that friendly  
__my love, my drug, we're fucked up_

Training new Avengers was hard. Well, the training itself wasn't too difficult. It was the constant ... what's the word?

Oh right.

_Parenting_.

It was like they were parenting them.

Especially Vision, the robot with a conscious, because he doesn't understand that going through walls isn't always a great idea, and mentally downloading all internet content of a person while you're talking to them is also not very nice. He was like a toddler. An extremely smart, technological, and flying toddler.

Rhodes was an instigator — he loved to casually cause chaos and then make it worse. He and Sam would turn the house upside down while fight-training, and then they ruined the garden Pepper put in, smashed the shed Vision built for himself, and broke the tire swing Steve had put up. (They're not allowed to practice anywhere other than the training rooms downstairs right now.)

Wanda was a different story. She had been a pawn in psychological warfare, in addition to being severely neglected and emotionally abused. She needed to talk to someone (a professional), but it took months of nightmares and mood swings before she admitted it to herself. She's much better now, and she enjoys taking part of "family game night" where the six of them play games or watch movies and drink until they're all stumbling to bed. Occasionally, they are joined by Tony or even Thor if he happened to be on Earth.

Today had been a prime example of the "family game night" previously mentioned. Sam and Rhodey found water guns and were shooting at each other (they claimed it was educational because they were "practicing") but then Natasha got hit with water. Actually, she got soaked with water. Once she had a water gun, she hit Wanda and Steve, who also immediately joined in on the fun.

When they weren't _parenting _or on missions, Steve and Natasha spent a lot of time together. Things had grown from a friendship, she thought (although she didn't let herself think that too often). He also thought that he should do something about their relationship and non-relationship, but he didn't know what.

She had a plan. Sneak attack, jump him, dump the water on him, laugh a lot.

What she didn't anticipate was him catching her and dumping the water on her.

She let out a squeal and tried to squirm away, but he didn't let go as he laughed at her misfortune. His laughter faded away as she stared up at him, a dazed glint in her eye. He looked down at her, their closeness suddenly very noticeable, but he still didn't let go.

The water guns were long forgotten with a small thud on the floor as he bent his head down to initiate the kiss. Natasha didn't realize she made a small noise — it a whimper or a moan or maybe even a combination of both — as her arms snaked around his neck, forcefully pulling him closer as her fingers threaded through his hair. Steve's arms wrapped around her waist loosely, yet possessively. Worried that he wasn't doing this whole kissing thing correctly, he slowly pulled away (against his body's wishes) and looked at her through half-lidded eyes. She looked up at him with a giddy smirk and glistening eyes, and he was suddenly very confident in his abilities.

This was not like their escalator kiss in DC — though that had been wonderful too — no, no, this was so much more. This kiss grew stronger and more intense as the seconds flew by. Steve alternated between kissing, biting, and sucking on her bottom lip (_when_ did he learn how to do _that_?) and it just solidified the thoughts that she didn't allow herself to typically think about. Now, when she thought about the kiss, she dubbed it as the "damn-boy-I-want-to-say-I-do-let's-fight-the-bad-guys-and-make-babies" type of kiss. The type of kiss that made her realize she wanted to do this for the rest of her life.

She really hoped he felt the same.

With every minute that passed, more and more of their bodies touched, but it wasn't as frenzied as before. It was slower and more languid, yet just as powerful. Somehow Steve's hands found their way to her ass and he hesitated before gently squeezing and pulling their bottom half's together. They both groaned at the contact. Natasha could not move, her body was frozen, but oh man, she could feel everything. Her body was on fire, everywhere he touched lit a line of heat and passion. The pit of her stomach was tingling with excitement.

He was no longer attacking her lips but rather her jaw and neck. He found a really sensitive spot at the junction of her jawbone and ear and she suddenly found her ability to move. She gripped his hair, effectively holding him in place, moaned softly in his ear, and untucked his shirt from his pants. One of his hands slipped under her wet shirt and he trailed his fingers up her spine, inching closer to her bra clasp with only a few reservations about it.

(I'd love to tell ya they were able to go on, but sadly, the world's best interrupter did it's best job at bringing them back to reality.)

Natasha was just about to undo Steve's belt buckle when his cell phone rang. They abruptly pulled away from each other, looking like deers caught in car headlights. Natasha quickly put space in between the two of them. She could still feel his hands on her even though there was a good three feet of empty space between them.

They were breathing heavily and staring at each other. The phone rang again ... and again ... and again.

Not trusting her voice, Natasha whispered, "you should probably answer that."

Steve nodded and slowly looked away from her. With one last glance, he cleared his throat and picked up the phone to answer it. "Steve." His voice was the last thing she needed to hear as it just stirred up more arousal in her. His voice was deep and husky, and it was not the only thing that gave away his serious arousal.

— wink wink —

Natasha had to get out of there. Willing her legs to move, she went to locate Sam, Wanda, and Vision after she heard the words "when do you need us by?" come out of Steve's mouth. There was a new mission for them to accomplish.

There was always a new mission.

*.*.*.*

It was probably best they couldn't continue.

Yeah, that's right, Steve nodded to himself. If they had continued, it would've possibly ruined a great fucking friendship and made things a hell of a lot more awkward.

(Or they could have had the time of their lives and it would have been the beginning of something _phenomenal_.)

No, he couldn't think like that. If he thought like that, he wanted to disregard everything they were currently dealing with and kiss her in the middle of this plane and cause some serious conversations he wasn't sure he was ready to have.

Oh man, but he was ready to have her, _all of her_. The strengths, the stubbornness, the wit, the desolation, the smile, the tears, all of her.

Ah fuck, he loved her.

How had he gotten to this point? When did she become the reason why he got up in the morning? When did she become the light of his life?

"Yo Steve," Sam called out. "We're landing in a few minutes, you might wanna sit."

Naturally, the only seat available was the one next to Natasha. If he didn't breathe in her scent, he wouldn't think about her. Then again, if he didn't breathe, he wouldn't be alive to think at all. Steadying himself, Steve sat next to her and willed his body not to react to their hips and thighs touching. He could still feel how soft her skin was under his hands and hear her soft moans as he assaulted the skin of her neck with his teeth, tongue, and lips.

He was suddenly grateful that Sam had given him _Sex for Dummie_s as a gag gift at Christmas.

Feeling like a hormone-riddled teenager, Steve looked over at her. It appeared that Natasha was experiencing the same sort of internal dilemma. Her cheeks were flushed and she was gripping the edge of the chair so tightly her knuckles were almost white. She refused to look at him. When he spoke, he surprised both of them.

"I'm sorry Nat. I shouldn't have ... initiated that. Not that I didn't enjoy it, because believe me I did, but fuck I was worried I ruined —"

"Don't apologize," she mumbled and finally looked at him. "If you hadn't started it, I would have." Her cheeks flushed a little redder. "I uh … I was enjoying it."

"You were?" A feeling of massive pride washed over him.

She rolled her eyes and punched his shoulder lightly. "Yeah, I was. To be fair," she leaned in and whispered into his ear, "I think you were too." Now it was Steve's turn to flush red. She chuckled quietly at his reaction.

Both of them hadn't realized Sam has witnessed their hot-and-heavy make-out session the day before, nor did they notice he was watching their current interaction. If they knew that, they probably wouldn't be acting the way they are now.

Their flirting had become more obvious throughout the last year. Their feelings for each other have become more obvious throughout the last year. When Sam met Natasha for the first time two years ago, she was much more closed off. Granted, Steve was too. They have opened up, and Sam thought it definitely had something to do with their level of closeness. He's not an idiot — he knew that Steve slept in Tasha's room and vice versa. He didn't think they were having _the_ _sex_ but they were having the special intimacy that married couples had. Sam hadn't slept next to someone in years, but he remembered how wonderful it was waking up next to a person you care about.

They bickered like an old married couple. They laughed like best friends. They flirted like long-time lovers. There was no doubt in Sam's mind that they would end up together. It may just take some time.

(and maybe a sign that Peggy was okay, so Steve could move on.)

*.*.*.*

They were both pissed, Wanda knew that. At first, she thought they were pissed at her. Then they talked with her, separately of course, and assured her she is not who they're mad at. The Avengers, long before the most recent additions, always caused so much destruction when they were trying to save the world from some dangerous threat. This was just the UN overreacting.

However, it was because of her out-of-control actions that made the governments want to create laws that prevented the Avengers from simply going out and saving people. There were going to be procedures and motions and hearings. It would take longer to get "approved" by the committee than to actually fight the damn enemy. Therefore, she wasn't a huge fan of it. For God's sake, she wouldn't be here if it weren't for Clint not following the rules.

Regardless, "Mom and Dad" are fighting (again), and it is dividing the whole group of Avengers.

Tony was stuck on following rules, which was odd, because he liked to push the envelope with things like this. Maybe it was because he built Ultron and felt responsible for the whole mess of shit going on. Natasha and Rhodes were agreeing with him, along with this Black Panther guy.

Steve believed that there shouldn't need to be any regulations when it comes to deciding who and which situations may or may not need the Avengers' help. He clearly believed in his own judgement more than the government's. They should be able to go aid those in need, and frankly, a governmental process would slow them down. After experiencing what she has, Wanda appreciates genuine help. So she agreed that some people have an authentic desire to help those in need, and she decided to side with Cap.

Wanda wasn't sure what this division would mean for the Avengers. Would they be able to overcome it?

Or would they be too broken?

*.*.*.*

"I'm just saying that maybe we _should_ have something that keeps us in check," Natasha said as she placed their plates in the sink to rinse them off.

Steve scoffed and muttered: "Wow."

"Wow, _what_, Steve? Every time we try to help a bad situation, it just gets worse. Innocent people die, just like in Sokovia. It's not Wanda's fault, but I think this time was like a bad wake-up call for the president."

"So you, the most _independent_ woman I know, has decided to let other people make her decisions? She's deciding to give up her morals and stand blindly by as they strip us of our ability to serve," he grumbled sarcastically.

Natasha slammed the dishwasher shut and turned to face him, "Are you trying to pick a fight? Because it's fucking working." He snorted in response. "Also, I think you're forgetting it's not 1942 anymore. I'm not _serving_ my country! I'm protecting the whole damn world!"

Steve was fuming, "I just don't understand how you could be on their side!"

"There are no side!" She shouted back at him.

"The fuck there aren't," he snarled.

"Steve!" She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "I'm picking the lesser of two evils. I'd rather be over-policed than renegade."

Steve shook his head. "I never thought you'd be the one against me."

Natasha whispered, "It's the lesser of two evils." When he didn't respond, she grabbed his wrist and pushed on: "Steve, please listen to me, I'm not ... against _you_."

He looked at her, stared at her really, with a piercing look in his squinted eyes. His brow was furrowed and he didn't know whether to believe her or not. She just stared back, her eyes wide and eyebrows slightly raised. They had fought many times before, but usually about training methods and personal beliefs and dinner options and mission plans. It wasn't about who believed — or didn't believe — in who.

Sometimes they can have whole conversations without saying a single word. They can make a plan, debate the plan, finesse the plan, and begin executing the plan without a word.

This was one of those times.

*.*.*.*

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just some cuts and bruises. I got lucky." She heard the sigh of relief from the other end of the phone. "The King of Wakanda is dead, so are a few others. They're saying … they're saying —"

"Yeah, I know what they're saying," he quipped. They were quiet because Natasha didn't know what to say, but then he whispered, "You know what I have to do, Nat."

She took a shaky breath in, "I know. It's, uh, what you believe in. I know how much Bucky means to you, but you're only gonna make it worse if you go after him yourself."

"What, are you gonna _arrest_ me?"

"No," her answer was immediate. "But that doesn't mean others won't."

He chuckled after a minute. "Tony's pretty pissed, huh?"

She rolled her eyes, but she smiled a bit. "You could say that. He doesn't understand how you could be so stubborn."

"Funny, I think I said something like that about him too." She chuckled and sniffled. He suddenly assured her, "I'll see you again, Nattie."

The use of his nickname for her caused tears to spring in her eyes, "you better ... Steve?"

His breath caught in his throat, "yeah?"

Natasha really wanted to say it, like really, _really_ wanted to say it but she can't, not right now. "I ... stay safe. I don't want to kick your ass, no matter how nice it is."

Steve grinned unbeknownst to her. "I'll be fine, okay?"

She nodded to herself and swallowed back her tears before replying in a small voice, "okay."


	3. three - waking up to remember I'm pretty

**Please don't forget to like and follow and review after you've read the chapters! I'd love to know what you are thinking about the story. Again, I'm trying to make them as in-character as a can while still preserving the concept of the story - they're in love and they should be together! Anyway, enjoy, and review!**

***.*.*.***

**three — waking up to remember I'm pretty**

_cause I've been on the run so long they can't find me  
__you're waking up to remember I'm pretty  
__and when the chemicals leave my body  
__yeah, they're gonna find me in a hotel lobby_

How long has she been gone?

When did she leave?

Where did she go?

Did she find whatever she was looking for?

When was she coming back?

As he stared at the ceiling, he let those questions fly in and out of his head. He truly wondered how long she had been gone from his side. They spent so many days and nights together in DC, and now he didn't know what to do without her. He and Sam had spent some time searching for Bucky, only to find _nothing_ at the end of every lead. Now they spend their days in the newly refurbished Stark Tower — which Tony insisted should be called the Avengers Tower — and searched for the last of the secret Hydra bases.

Sam and Tony and Thor and Clint and Bruce were nothing in comparison to her.

For example, Sam won't stay up late with him discussing anything and everything until they fall asleep together. Tony's sarcasm often goes too far, and Clint doesn't understand the inside jokes that he shared with her. Bruce was too busy trying to maintain "The Big Guy," and Thor was often distracted by Jane Foster.

There were times when it was fun living in a house full of guys (Pepper wasn't even staying in the tower), but sometimes he really missed having her here. She would crack the whip, so to speak, much like Peggy would've.

Peggy.

He didn't think he would get used to the idea of Peggy marrying and growing old with another man. He didn't think he could get used to it.

But with her, maybe he could. Her beauty, her wit, her charm, her strength, her thoughts, her loyalty.

He heaved himself out of bed and threw on a shirt. He scrubbed his hands down his face and sighed as he walked to the kitchen. Getting her out of his head, or at least _trying_ to get her out of his head, was a daily occurrence.

"Good morning Steve," she said as she smiled into her coffee mug.

Yeah, she was as beautiful as he remembered.

Maybe even more.

He smiled back at her.

She was home … thank God.


	4. four - tough times

**Hello again! Thanks for the reviews/follows/favorites, they make my day! In case you didn't notice, I won't tell you when each chapter is set, ya just hafta find the context clues. (If you're still confused, you can ask.)**

*.*.*.*

**four — tough times**

_cause, mmm, tough  
__times they keep comin'_

It was simple.

All they had to do was go to the store. Walk in, buy food, walk out. _Simple_.

Both of their fridges were pathetically empty, and they couldn't keep ordering take-out, even though Steve found it phenomenal that there were all these different types of food ready and available on the other end of the phone.

Natasha had forgotten how domestic this errand felt. It felt and looked like she and her significant other went to the store to get food for the next week or two. At least, they bickered like significant others.

When she goes to the store by herself, all the single (and some married) guys stare at her. I mean, she knows she's a 12 on a scale from 1 to 10, but that's not the point. They shouldn't stare, it just slows her down, because she gets self-conscious. Now that she's grocery shopping with _Steve_, all the women are staring at them in a purely jealous manner. Yes, he is also a 12 on a scale from 1 to 10, but at least he _doesn't_ know it. (Frankly, he's kind of an idiot when it comes to women.)

Natasha started wondering if Steve hadn't been a grocery store _since_ he had been "defrosted," as she so lovingly put it. He had so many damn questions, comments, and concerns, she really just wanted to ditch him in the paper goods aisle.

"Hey, oatmeal! Wait, why are there so many flavors of oatmeal? No, wait, why the hell are there so many flavors of _cereal_?"

Occasionally Natasha answered the questions and joined in the conversation.

"Okay, alcohol, bread products, juice and soda, chips and snacks, pasta, canned food, hygiene, baby, family pla … What's 'family planning'?"

She just grimaced and quickly pulled him away from that particular aisle. "Nothing you need to worry about, champ, nothing you need to worry about."

The frozen food section: "So do people just buy food that's been frozen?"

"Uh, yeah, that's what _frozen food _is."

"How do they eat it?"

"You … you _cook_ it."

The frozen dessert section: "You know, ice cream used to be a treat. Now, you can buy it by the _gallon_? What the actual hell?"

"And it eat it in one sitting," Natasha replied without looking up from the ice cream freezer.

The milk section: "Why is milk three dollars?"

"What?"

"Why is milk _three _dollars?"

She didn't know how to answer that. "Because it is."

"Are the prices usually like this?"

"Ya know Steve, there's a thing called inflation and it caused some drastic changes to the US economy. Also, if you don't want to be recognized, I suggest you stop talking so loud about how things _used to be_."

"Well, I'm just … flabbergasted at it all!"

"Flabbergasted?"

"It's a word!"

"I'm not doubting the word's validity, I'm just gonna tease you for using it."

He huffed and fiddled with the vegetables in front of him, "It's just … everything's so different."

"I'm sure the asparagus agrees with you."

He rolled his eyes, "Natasha …"

"Look, things are tough, times are changing, and everything gets weirder every year. I'm sure that it's hard adjusting to living in the 2010s. It's been 70 years. All your friends are old, some are dead. Peggy got married and had kids with someone else. It sucks."

"Who knew tough love could be delivered in front of the cheese section of a store?" He sounded bitter as he said it.

"Oh please, you're Captain America! You can do anything. Look, I'm not one for pep talks —"

"Clearly —"

"I'm not one for pep talks," she repeated louder, "but I think you need to stop beating yourself up for willingly crashing into the Atlantic and saving everyone from Hydra and Hitler. I know it's easy for me to tell you to do something, and I bet it's gonna be hard to actually do, but you need to do it. The good news is that you're alive, and you, along with five others, saved the planet from aliens, and you can continue to do that until your time comes." She shrugged. "So you might as well accept that you're in 2012 and help us defend the world."

"I feel like I'm going to get used to everything and then it'll all change again."

"It probably will."

"Gee, that's reassuring."

"That's just how it is these days. Technology is rapidly changing —"

"Not that, I think I can handle that. I mean … what happens if I say the wrong thing or offend someone because I use the terminology that was 'okay' in the 30s and 40s but now it's definitely not 'okay'?"

Natasha didn't know how to answer that either. "I think everyone's afraid of saying the wrong thing, especially us. Our identities are the worst kept secret in the whole world. It could be a PR nightmare if any of us do something stupid. That's not to say it won't happen, and we'll do everything we can to fix it if it does. That's just how things are."

Steve frowned, "Are you sure?"

"Would I lie to you?"

"I don't really know sometimes."

She huffed at his rudeness, "I would only lie if it's a life-or-death scenario."

"But is this a life-or-death scenario?"

"I guess you'll just have to trust me," she winked and moved to the checkout area.

"What's self-checkout?"

"It's where you check yourself out in their security cameras and buy your groceries at the same time. It's pretty magical."


	5. five - all night

**This one is long, friends, so get ready for a wonderful ride! The ending is definitely an M moment, but I'll mark the start of it! But hey, we all love Romanogers smut :)**

***.*.*.***

**five — all night**

_all night  
__laughin' and fuckin'  
some days like I'm barely breathin'_

It hadn't been easy.

It took six months for things to blow over, which some (Sam and Wanda mostly) would like to point out were the _longest six months_ of their lives. Tony stopped furiously looking for them and the media moved on to some other thing that meant much less than Avengers going rogue. More importantly, the media overseas stopped their coverage all together, and only showed news from the United States when something really dangerous or something really stupid happened.

Perhaps most importantly, they found a place to stay (maybe not permanently, but possibly), a place that didn't care who they were and what they had or hadn't done. When Clint told them about it before he and Scott Lang left for their hones, he had joked that it was probably full of undercover spies and their families, like some secret society. Reason being that one of his old spy buddies lived there with his husband and two girls when not on assignment.

They waited six months. Six months of crappy hotels and endless arguments, hot tears and cold shoulders, sleepless nights and high anxiety.*

*This only applies to Steve and Natasha.

Yes, Sam and Wanda were nervous and exhausted, but they didn't butt heads as much as the other too. Then again, they weren't in love and trying to deny it.

It was like a breath of fresh air when they made it to the little town in Northeastern Ireland. No longer did they have to watch their every move and look over their shoulders. No more sleeping in shifts. All of that crippling apprehension melted away.

No one cared who the hell they were.

No one cared, and it was wonderful. They could be normal people. With jobs and everything.

Natasha was walking back from the grocery one day and saw the ballet studio. Out of curiosity, she poked her head in and was disappointed to see the teacher teaching a young girl the incorrect stance. Natasha whispered to herself how to properly do it, which drew the attention of several parents and the teacher. (Maybe she didn't whisper it.)

Long story short, Natasha became the new ballet teacher.

Sam saw that there was a new restaurant opening that needed a lead bartender, so that's where he worked nightly, except Mondays and Tuesdays. The library needed some serious help, so that's where Steve's working. Wanda, being only 20, decided she wanted to take some classes, so she's attending a small post-secondary school not far from the library.

It was another two months before the next big argument took place.

None of them knew how it started, only how it escalated so rapidly that Sam took Wanda and left with only a goodbye, oh and please don't kill each other.

Steve was cutting his lasagna with such force, it practically broke the plate. Sam and Wanda glanced at each other.

Natasha rose her eyebrows and sipped her wine. "Aren't _you_ in a mood?"

He shook his head and cut with less vigor. "I'm fine, let's not talk about it"

"Right, my bad, we don't need to talk about anything," she bit back.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, now you want to talk? No, wait — you want to argue … Or, no — that's not it, either — you want to change the subject. Classic Steve move, right?"

Sam and Wanda glanced at each other again, super uncomfortable, and slowly scooted their chairs away from the kitchen table.

Steve looked taken aback for a second, then his face got just a little bit too stoic. He took on that cold, stone-faced confidence most commonly assumed at the dawn of battle.

(… this when Sam and Wanda started gettin' real fucking nervous.)

"Using biting sarcasm and dry wit to deflect and distract and redirect … a classic Natasha move."

There was a jarring moment of silence before Sam emitted a low whistle and pushes his chair away from the table. "This is awkward, so … I'mma leave now. Wanda?"

"I — yes."

Sam and Wanda wasted no time in taking their leave. The door closed behind them, and all that remained were two people fuming over a lukewarm dish of lasagna.

The tension was palpable. Everything was still - even the air seemed unwilling to move, as did they.

Steve was the one to break the silence. "What the hell was that about?"

"You heard me. The timing was … ill-advised, I'll admit, but it doesn't make what I said any less true. You don't talk to me. At all."

"What are you talking about? We talked this morning."

"Oh, cut the bullshit. You know what I mean. I just … I don't know when you stopped trusting me. Or … maybe you do trust me, but less? I don't know anymore, Steve."

Natasha looked at him, eyebrows raised, clearly expecting him to say something — _anything_. But nothing comes. She glanced at her plate, appetite long gone, and pushed it aside. She shook her head and stood up.

"Whatever. You're on your own cleaning up. I'm going to bed."

The sound of her footsteps broke Steve from his trance. He stood and followed her from the room.

"Nat, please — I'm sorry, I —"

"No."

"Nattie, look at me — no, don't cry, I hate it when you cry!"

"Good, it'll make you go away!"

"Now, wait a minute —"

"God, Steve, why are you so mad at me for pointing out the truth? Damn it, why can't you just —"

"Because I'm scared, okay! I'm scared that, with everything being so good right now, our guard is down and we will be attacked or found or, or, or I don't know, something _bad _will happen!"

"You don't think I'm scared too? You don't think I worry about what would happen if someone came in while I was with a bunch of kids who just wanted to learn ballet? And I worry about Wanda! Yeah, she's getting comfortable with herself now and she's making friends, but I'm always going worry that something will cause a setback and she won't talk for months. And Sam … I don't even know where to begin with him!"

"I _know_ that you worry, trust me. I just feel that since it's my fault we're in this mess that I'm the one in charge —"

"That's cute you think you're charge, but I think we both know who's _really_ in charge."

"Nat —"

"Also, I _don't_ need you validate how I'm feeling. Because frankly, even though you drive me insane, the thought of losing you hurts the most."

"Lo … Losing me?"

She took a deep breath and stood there, trying to nonverbally convey the pain that thought caused her. "We've been arguing a lot … since the Accords and the aftermath, and I thought it was just because we're hot-blooded people who thrive on disagreement. But we're not. We do so much better when we're communicating and … we're not doing that. If we were doing that, I would've told you by now that … that I'm sorry for going against you. I did pick a side, and I knew I picked the wrong one the minute I saw your face. It made sense to have some structure, but not some hastily put together structure by nervous politicians. I'm sorry for not truly being there with you. My head was with Tony, but my heart … my heart was with you. It's always been with you, St —"

Natasha's breath caught in her throat, effectively cutting her sentence short, when she felt the warmth of his palms against her cheeks. Natasha's eyes shifted from the floor up to his in surprise at the contact but she barely had time to register what was happening before his lips descended to meet hers.

She moaned against his lips, heat blooming in every cell of her body from his touch. The cup of his hands at her cheeks sent sparks through her blood. His lips were gentle on her, as soft as she remembered from _months_ ago but a sharp nip of his teeth to her bottom lip caused her mouth to open.

Fire licked at her insides as Steve's kiss grew bolder by the second, he was claiming her, making her _his_. And she let him - _god_ she had absolutely no objection to it — she let him taste the desire she held for him and him alone.

Her hips rocked into his as she moved toward him with a mind of their own, her body taking over and responding to the desperate call of his. He groaned against her mouth as their centers aligned perfectly and she held back a whimper when his thigh hit just the right spot, providing glorious friction and sending waves of heat pulsing through her abdomen, reverberating through her every limb.

"Nat," he whispered her name like a prayer when their lips separated for air, but he made no move to put any distance between them. He let his lips descend to her neck instead, sucking at the smooth skin behind her ear. His hands moved down to her waist and pulled her in closer to him, encouraging the sway of her body against his.

Her breath caught in her throat when he bit down on her collarbone, laving his tongue over it a second later to soothe the sting, and he groaned when her nails dug into his shoulders as desire continued to bloom inside her, every inch of her yearning and burning for his kiss, for his touch. "Nat, I don't know if —"

"God, Steve, I want this," she confessed, running her fingers through his hair. Her words seemed to ignite something in him and he growled, possessive now as he slipped his hands under the thin fabric of her shirt. The heat of his palms seared her skin, setting every inch of her aflame, and this time she didn't even try to contain the mewl that rose from her throat. "I want you, I want this, I want us," she chanted, her mind incoherent and unable to think of anything but the truth of those words. Natasha guided his head back up to hers with her hands at his cheeks and claimed his mouth, and she tried to convey the truth in her words with the passion in her kiss.

"I'm so sorry, Steve —"

The apology bubbled up from her but he was quick to silence her with the press of his mouth, swallowing the words from her lips.

"No more," he breathed, "no more apologies, just please tell me this is it, that you're not going to change your mind in the morning." His eyes were begging, desperate for her to promise.

She flashed him a smile and gently pulled his lips to hers for a soft kiss. "This is it, this is so it, I've never wanted anything more in my life."

At this confession, Steve stopped to kiss her once more. His bright eyes and giddy smile assured her he was telling the truth as well when he said, "I feel the same way."

****M! IT'S M NOW!**

They resumed the passionate kisses, but at a much slower pace, and they somehow managed to make it to her room without breaking anything or any bones. Natasha pressed him against the wall and ran her hands along his body before untucking his shirt and pulling it off his body. His skin was on fire and his muscles were tense as she trailed her fingers down his chest to the top of his pants. She was teasing him, trying to show she still had the upper hand, but her patience was wearing thin.

So was Steve's, because he pushed her backwards until she fell back onto the bed. He wanted to revel in the moment and memorize her body and stretch out this act of love for as long as he could … but he was also so damn impatient that it would have to wait until later. Natasha was working at pulling his belt and pants off while she was still completely dressed, so he had to — _he_ _had to_ — see more of her glorious body, it just wasn't fair.

He slowly pushed up her shirt and kissed up her torso and chest as it was removed from her body. She squirmed and moaned when he sucked on her collarbone again, and she was delightfully surprised to realize that she was no longer wearing her bra as he removed it with ease.

He must've sensed her surprise and chuckled, "it's a clasp, not a bomb." She would've laughed too if she wasn't so damn turned on.

It wasn't exactly a race to see who could get the other undressed first, but it was an unspoken competition … that Natasha won by pinning him down and yanking off his pants and boxers.

He was fucking beautiful. Gorgeous. Handsome doesn't even cover it. That super serum was good, but no way is this _all_ because of that German scientist's magic juice or whatever. She was staring in awe at him (all of him, not _just_ the goods) and he started to turn red at all the attention. "Nat …" Her head snapped up and she smirked, removing her shorts and panties. She let him flip them over and they groaned when their naked bodies fell together.

Natasha moaned against his lips and held him close as she aligned her body with his. He was kissing her chest and slowly inching towards her nipples. She appreciated his hesitation, but trust me man, there was _no reason_ for such slowness.

There was grazing, slight friction, but certainly not enough. It was like she was and wasn't a part of this at the same time. She felt like she was high and this was just a hallucination, or it was a wonderful, wonderful dream that would require a cold shower. The noises she (or he? or both of them?) were making sounded far away but were also deafening in her mind. Her breath hitched when his cock brushed against her clit and _it_ _felt_ _so_ _good_. She let out a breathy whine and he stopped sucking on her nipple long enough to catch her eye and raise his eyebrows, asking the silent question that he hoped didn't come with the "no" answer.

"Oh, baby, please," she whispered, her hands grasping at anything to hold on to as he aligned himself with her soaked entrance. "Please," she begged again, bucking her hips up into his to make him understand her urgency.

Becoming united was a feeling neither had ever experienced before. It was like their lives were shattered yet being stitched back together at the same time.

There was this enormous pressure resting on Natasha's chest, making it almost impossible to breathe. It was the weight of this action, how their lives were permanently changed from this moment on, how she never — _never_ — wanted to go back to the way things were just a while ago. She wanted to be with him … forever.

Steve never thought he'd get to this point with her, never ever. This was the most magnificent feeling in the world, being nestled deep inside her core, and he couldn't help but imagine how amazing the rest of their love-making (because it wasn't just sex for them) would feel.

He hovered over her on his forearms, leaned down to kiss her languidly, and ran his hands through her splayed out hair. He had to touch her, _all of her_, all at once. Her moan was stifled against his mouth and she bucked against his hips once more, essentially saying to get a move on, stud.

It was so important for Steve to do this right, he thrust back in unhurriedly, over and over. It was too slow, it was making Nat lose her damn mind, but it was so good, so _good_, _so_ _good_ that it may just be okay. Her hips moved in time with him, and she sunk her nails into his back and wrapped her legs loosely around his hips for deeper thrusts. He must've noticed the adjustment in angle and groaned against her neck, plunging into her harder and faster.

"Steve!" She yelped his name at this change and kept in pace with him. "Steve … please …"

"What, baby, what?" He mumbled against her neck and shoulder in between sharp bites and gentle kisses.

"Oh! Oh, don't stop, don't stop, faster," she pleaded, as his pelvis was hitting her clit perfectly with every thrust propelled into her center. She clutched his back, clawed at his shoulders, squealing and moaning and screaming as he continued to endlessly ram into her over and over _and_ _over_. She didn't know sex could feel so good, _how_ was he so good at this? He knew exactly what to do and when to do it. He was a mind-reader, and she felt like she was falling apart at every sensations.

Natasha didn't have time to warn him that she was about to experience the most mind-blowing, earth-shattering, heart-stopping orgasm of her life, it just took over, she was at its mercy. She cried out, "oh, oh, _oh_!" before screaming his name multiple times as her body seized up and rode out the waves. Steve was at his brink, losing the pace and thrusting into her with abandon as his own mind-blowing, earth-shattering, heart-stopping orgasm washed over his body. He couldn't speak, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't do anything except relentlessly pound into her awaiting body. As it subsided in time with Natasha's, he said her name over and over, "Natasha, Nat, Nattie, Nat." He kissed her body, wherever he could reach, as he collapsed against her chest.

As they laid there, together as one, with their sweaty bodies flush against each other, Steve and Natasha couldn't quite believe what had just transpired. There were light touches and gentle kisses shared between them. The walls that had kept their thoughts and feelings hidden for years had come down. Everything was out in the open now — except for those three words.

Natasha took in a deep breath and ran her fingers through his hair lazily, gently pulling his mouth up to hers. They were unwilling to part, unwilling to stop touching, unwilling to let the night end. Steve's hands squeezed her hip bones and positioned her so the tip of his cock brushed against her opening _just so_. Nat broke the kiss to gasp and writhe at the sensation. She looked up into his eyes and he looked pretty smug. She flashed him a smile. A genuine smile. He faltered, unable to mask his surprise at her happiness, but smiled back.

Too curious not to know, Natasha asked him slowly, "was that your first time having sex since 1945?" Steve's cheeks burned as he tried to hide his face in her neck and distract her with little nibbles. When he didn't respond, Natasha rose her eyebrows and turned her head so he would look at her. "Steve?"

He looked so embarrassed. "Uhh, that was my first time having sex ..."

"Since 1945?"

His eyes widened and he bit his lip. "E — ever," he stuttered.

That didn't compute in Natasha's head. But he was so gorgeous, how could no one tap that? He was so good at it. He knew how to make her scream, no other guy could do that. She actually had an orgasm (a fucking _great_ one), that doesn't typically happen during the first time (hell some guys don't know how to make a woman come _at all_.) "Ever?" The shock radiated through her voice.

"Ever …" he said slowly.

Unable to stop it, Natasha erupted into laughter. It started as giggles. Cute, small, stifled-against-Steve's-shoulder giggles, but it soon turned into deep belly-laughter.

"Okay I know it's funny, but it's not that funny," Steve pointed out, sounding annoyed but still mostly embarrassed.

"I — I just can't believe that I —" she giggled some more — "I was lucky enough to take _Captain America's_ virginity!"

Steve rolled his eyes and went back to kissing her neck while she laughed at his predicament. It was kind of funny, maybe in a not-for-me-but-maybe-for-you sort of way. He casually bit down on her collarbone and she gasped mid-laugh, digging her nails into his forearms.

"Enough laughing," he said in a husky voice, "I don't know how to put it more romantically, but I just want to fuck you again and again."

Natasha's eyes darkened and her arms snaked around his waist, pulling him flush against her. He groaned, feeling her heat radiating onto his cock, as she mumbled, "You don't need to be romantic, baby," the term of endearment just slipped out, and she briefly wondered how many times it had been said, "besides, you've already managed to figure out what to do."

"I had a little guidance from Sam," Steve admitted.

Natasha paused her hips' circular ministrations and titled her head, "I'm sorry, _what?_ _How?_"

"My first Christmas present from him was _Sex for Dummies_ as a gag gift so I could, and I quote, 'learn how to live up to the expectations that have been set in place.'"

She really wanted to laugh again, but all she could think to do was kiss him in response and make a mental note to buy Sam his favorite meal as a "thank-you" much, much later.


	6. six - it was you

**Y'all, I am so sorry this took so long, I moved and school started, so it's been a lot. Anyway, this chapter contains an M-rated scene that I will point out before it begins. I really like this chapter, and I like chapter seven even more, and I hope you do too!**

**Please favorite, follow, and review - the notifications make my day!**

***.*.*.***

**six ****—**** it was you**

_but after we were high in the love doped out, it was you_

"You could never."

"Steve?"

"Okoye … this is no place to die."

"Sam?"

"I am Groot."

Natasha came running from where she was, her heart pounding before practically stopping when she saw Steve collapse on the ground surrounded by flakes of ash. She skidded to a stop behind him, panting from the exertion from the fighting, hand gripping her cramping side. She looked around wildly, trying to see who was still here. Vision's body was gray, with a pile of ash next to him, meaning Wanda vanished. Rhodey had called out for Sam, but he got no response.

Everything went quiet, but it didn't last long.

Okoye let out an anguished scream upon the realization that her beloved king had disappeared right before her eyes and he was not coming back. "We lost," Steve had whispered and Natasha dropped to her knees, her hands landing on his shoulders, head falling between his shoulder blades. "We lost," he repeated, not believing himself, palming the ash covering the ground.

Somehow the remaining Avengers gathered themselves and made the decision to return to New York. They left Wakanda on stealth planes and flew in silence to the Avengers compound. The only sounds that could be heard were the hum of the engine, the sniffles that gave away the silent tears, and the whispered words shared between Natasha and Steve as they piloted the jet.

"What are we supposed to do now?" Steve asked, his eyes trained on the clouds in front of them.

Natasha shook her head in despair. The closer they got to New York, the more her nerves grew. They had the conversation before the fight, before the phone call that drew them out of hiding and into New York. They would have been fine staying in exile, they had finally gotten used to it, they weren't looking for a new terrorist around every corner.

Now … well hell, what _are_ they supposed to do?

"You can't stay awake just to stare at the numbers going up, Steve," she whispered as she leaned against the bookcase.

"Like hell I can't," he retorted softly. She sighed and moved towards his sitting frame, and he turned his head slightly to look at her through his peripheral vision. "I don't know what else to do."

"Everyone else is already asleep or hauled up in their own rooms. Why don't we do the same, hmm?" She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and leaned down to kiss the top of his head. He leaned into her embrace and let his head fall against her chest. She wasn't wrong, he _was_ exhausted, but could he sleep?

"You were also supposed to be asleep, Nat," he whispered, lacing his fingers with hers.

"You should know by now that I can't sleep without you next to me," she murmured and leaned down to kiss his cheek, jaw, and neck repeatedly. "Please come lay with me, even if you don't sleep."

He sighed once more and nodded in agreement. Once he turned and saw her face, he let his emotions get the best of him. They hadn't had a minute to themselves since the snap, and he couldn't allow himself to breakdown in front of everyone else. Perhaps it was a pride thing, or maybe it was him giving a false sense of calm, but now all he wanted to do was hold Natasha and cry with her.

"I'm so glad you're alive, Nat," he spoke barely above a whisper and pulled her body to his. "I don't know what I would've done if you had vanished too."

She shook her head against his chest and sniffed quietly. He felt her tears soak through his shirt and his dampened her hair. "I can't imagine life without you," she cried. "We already lost so many people, I can't lose you too."

"You're never going to lose me," he mumbled into her hair. She sniffed again and lifted her head to look into his eyes. She had a deep cut on her cheek that had been stitched together by Rhodes, but she showed such compassion as she helped everyone else with their injuries earlier in the day. He loved her, he had to say it out loud. "I love you," he whispered. He didn't give her a chance to respond (besides, he already knew she loved him), he captured her lips in a kiss and held her close.

She responded with wild abandon, pulling him by his shoulders ever closer to her body. They were hurt beyond imagine, their team was half-dead, their bodies were broken, but their love couldn't be extinguished. His hand tangled in her hair and he swooped her up and placed her on the edge of the table, the rising numbers of vanished people forgotten for the moment. They had to reassure each other that they were alive — _truly_ _alive_ — in this time of despair. Recently, their love had been reckless, fast, wild, promiscuous even. But right now, they took their time. It felt like years since they had last held each other (had it only been days?), yet they took their time.

Natasha had removed his shirt slowly and made real quick work of his belt, while he assaulted her neck and chest with open-mouthed kisses. Her legs wrapped loosely around his thighs and pulled his lower half close to hers. One of her hands scratched the nape of his neck lightly, just the way he liked it, which elicited a soft groan from deep within him. She smirked slightly before his hands moved to the hem of her shirt and lifted it over her head quickly. _No bra?_ Steve was surprised but _fucking_ _delighted_. Discarded on the floor, Steve reached down and placed his hands in her jeans' pockets and lifted her off the desk. Their mouths fused together once more and he stumbled into her old bedroom.

The room had not changed at all — the papers still littered her desk, the pictures still hung on the walls, the books still sat on the shelves. Steve gently sat her on top of the bed and watched her crawl backwards through hooded eyes. Natasha leaned back against the pillows and allowed him to kiss down her chest and stomach to the waistband of her jeans. She sighed contentedly and ran her fingers through his long hair as he kissed back up her body and removed her pants. Not wanting him to feel left out, Natasha removed his jeans as well.

Their kisses became more fierce yet still not frantic. One of her legs wrapped around his waist and she pressed her hips up, trying to show him how much she wanted him at that very moment. They moaned together quietly, but he made no movement. He seemed to be perfectly content just kissing her lips, her jaw, her neck, her chest, and back up again and again. She let out breathy moans as his mouth got closer and closer to her nipples, which by the way happened to be rubbing wonderfully against his bare chest.

**M from here till the 'I love you's'**

"Ste — Steve," she breathed out his name, "oh please." He grinned softly and bent down to slowly take one of her nipples in his mouth. She gasped and bucked her hips against his, and the vibrations of his groan encouraged her do it again. At this point, she reached down and ripped off his boxers for him, as she was feeling very, very impatient. She took him in her hand and, with the lightest of touches, rubbed him until he ached for something more than her warm hand.

Steve switched nipples and quickly removed her panties. She was so, so wet, and he was so, so hard. She was wantonly pulling him towards her core with one hand and forcing his hips closer to hers with her other hand. Steve had to release her nipple and whisper her name to get her attention.

"Natasha," he wanted her to look at him so badly, he wanted to see her beautiful eyes as he entered her. It was truly one of the best sights he'd ever seen. She looked up at him and smiled slowly. She knew this was his favorite part. She let go of him and allowed him to take control. As he gradually entered her, her grip on the back of his neck tightened and she sunk her nails into his shoulder. She loudly moaned out his name and arched her back into his awaiting body.

For a moment they stayed like that, joined together as one. Overcome by the emotion, tears sprang into Natasha's eyes and she gasped for air. She placed her hand gently on his cheek and traced his brow line with her thumb.

"I love you," she said with a shaky voice, and a tear slipped out of her eye. He wiped it away with his thumb and kissed her lips softly. "I love you," she said again, and she kept saying it as if she was trying to make up for all the times she didn't say it. He started moving his hips slowly, and eventually her chorus of I-love-you's turned into moans and gasps of approval. Steve moved slowly at first, but she wasn't having any of that, so she grabbed his ass and forced him to thrust into her faster.

He definitely didn't mind. He didn't mind at all.

Natasha was a _fucking_ _goddess_. She moved with him and did little twists with her hips that made everything feel _so_ _much_ _better_ and Steve didn't know how he kept up with her. It felt like her hands were everywhere all at once. She pulled his head down and kissed him almost as brutally as their hips moved in unison. _God_ he had gotten so great at this whole sex thing within the last year.

There was one specific noise that Natasha made as she got close to her orgasm, kind of like a whimper, and when Steve heard it, he was over the _fucking_ moon. He too was so close, but he wanted her to come first, and hopefully a second time too. He wanted to make this really perfect because, let's face it, everything else was just shit. He deliberately increased the pace and the force of his thrusts in addition to nibbling on the juncture of her collarbone.

"St … Steve!" Natasha shouted his name as she lost control of her movements and bucked wildly under him. She continued to thrash under him and gasp and moan as he continued groaning, kissing, moving against her and _he_ _did not stop_. She felt like she was going to come apart, the pressure so intense, the emotion so strong. He slowed his movements only to allow for her to come down from her high, but she realized (when she could breathe again) that he had yet to orgasm himself.

"Did you —?"

Incapable of speaking, Steve shook his head against her breasts. She let out a short laugh and threw her head back against the pillow. "Oh, thank god," she cried out and it turned into a loud moan as he continued his assault on her magnificent center.

This round, Natasha couldn't contain her noises or her movements. She moved with reckless abandon and it spurred Steve to move rougher against her. He was desperately trying to maintain a "love-making" aspect of this sexual rendezvous. However, as she came closer to falling off the wonderful cliff _again_ that he happened to be pushing her towards, she pulled his head down once again to suck and bite that one spot on his neck that drove him mad, he simply lost control.

"Nat … Natasha!" Steve yelled, driving into her relentlessly again and again as he came. She practically shrieked his name as she orgasmed again. They slowed their movements, drawing out the last of their orgasms. Their breathing remained erratic, their bodies covered in a sheen layer of sweat, their lips gently kissing each other's. This was Natasha's favorite part of sex with Steve: the afterglow.

Steve stayed buried inside her, his head resting in the crook of her neck, his hands still holding Natasha's hips. He briefly worried there would be fingerprint bruises on her hip bones, but he dismissed the thought as quickly as it came to him. She was petting his hair and gently playing with his beard as she regulated her breathing.

"I love you," Natasha said with a hoarse voice.

"I love you too, Nat," Steve responded with a voice similarly hoarse. He lifted his head and kissed her lips gently. "I love you too."

*.*.*.*

Sunlight hit Natasha's face the next morning. She was still naked from all the love-making with Steve, but she actually felt rested. Her eyelids opened and she squinted a little to see past the blinding sunlight coming through the small opening between the blinds. She ran a hand through her bedhead hair and genuinely smiled at the sight before her.

Steve was still sleeping next her (which was surprising), and he had one hand wrapped around her bent leg that rested in between his own legs and the other hand loosely holding onto her own. His face was calm, eyes closed and nose slightly crinkled, with his hair falling onto his forehead.

She sighed contentedly and pulled the sheet up a little more to cover her bare breasts. (God forbid anyone knock in this odd little family, who knows what someone may see.) She shifted, trying to get more comfortable, but she immediately gasped in pain. Everywhere hurt. Everywhere ached. Everywhere was sore. She couldn't move without gritting her teeth or clenching her fist. Apparently, she needed a hot bath to recover from the long fight in Wakanda.

The snap.

Instantaneously, everything came flooding to the forefront of her mind. Half the universe's population was dead. So many members of their own family were dead. The number of vanished people was ridiculously high when they retreated to bed last night, and she couldn't imagine how much higher it would be this morning.

Somehow she dragged herself out of bed and into the bathroom to brush her teeth and pop some Ibuprofen. She threw on one of Steve's old sweatshirts and some shorts and padded into the kitchen to get some cereal. Rhodes was already out there, watching the counts and taking notes on another screen.

"Morning Rhodey," Natasha mumbled as she found the milk.

"Is it morning?" He asked mindlessly. "I've been awake since two, woke up to some shouting. Thought it was you and Steve going at it, found it _was_ the two of you going at it, but in a completely different meaning of the word."

Her eyes went wide and her cheeks flushed red. "Uhh …"

He cracked a smile and asked, "When did that start?"

"Um … like, ten months after the airport fight," she admitted, finding pouring milk into a bowl very fascinating.

"Good for you," he chuckled, "and thank God."

She was puzzled. "Huh?"

"The reason y'all fought so much was because of unresolved sexual tension so I can only imagine how peaceful things are now."

She hadn't thought about it like that, but he certainly wasn't wrong. "I suppose."

Later, all of them were sitting around the display table, all counts minimized. There wasn't much talking, until Thor broke the silence by throwing the Stormbreaker across the room, surprising a few but not phasing Steve or Natasha in the slightest. They knew he was pissed. They knew he believed it was his fault the snap had happened. "Thor," Natasha spoke softly, "anyone would've aimed for the heart. It's the organ that sustains life."

"I'm not just anyone, Natasha."

She looked at Steve for help, but he just shook his head. There's nothing they can do if he's in this mood. He changed the subject. "We need to decide what we're going to do."

"We?" Okoye questioned.

"We lost. But there are people who survived that need help. If we want to, we can help them."

Rocket snorted, "as what, the Avengers, Earth's Mightiest ... Failures?"

Steve shrugged, slightly on the defensive now. "Or just as ... people ... people who care."

Everyone fell quiet and no comments were made. It was Rhodey who shrugged his shoulders and noncommittally said, "I'd like to help out other countries, ones that were already in such disarray, this can't be making anything better. They probably don't even know what happened."

Natasha threw in, "Do you think _anyone_ other than us knows it was the act of an alien terrorism?"

"Probably not."

"Why tell them? That would cause more panic."

"Probably not wrong. He did what he wanted, he won't come back."

"How do we know that?" Okoye demanded.

"I guess we don't." Bruce commented, scratching his chin.

"I'm going to assist around space." Rocket suddenly declared. "It's what the Guardians would have done. I'm still a Guardian of the Galaxy, dammit, just because I'm the only one left doesn't mean it's not my job anymore." Thor nodded, understanding his sentiment.

"I can't help but think of all the orphans that this caused. How many are now parentless and scared and hungry? How many have family members still alive but can't get in touch with them?" She shook her head and played with her and Steve's hands. "Something needs to be done. I'm gonna done something … I'll start in New York and do what I can do to reunite families."

"My country needs to rebuild and we can aid most of Africa's countries."

All of these were great ideas. Steve was excited to hear that they did all have ideas, based on what they deemed important. But what was his idea?

He didn't get to think too hard, because Jarvis alerted them that someone was at the gate.

"Who?"

"It's Miss Potts."

In the midst of everything, they had somehow forgotten about Pepper. Tony would be so mad if he knew.

Oh shit, who was gonna tell her that her fiancé is missing?

Natasha launched herself out of her chair, shouted "let her in!" and ran down the stairs into the yard. She hadn't seen her in so long — one of the only other sane ones in this group of people — she missed her so much.

"Pepper!" She yelled as the two woman ran towards each other.

"Natasha, thank god," Pepper cried and they hugged. She sobbed into Natasha's shoulder and asked if they had found him yet.

Natasha bit her lip and shook her head into Pepper's hair. "No, I'm sorry. We think he's on some other planet, but we don't know where."

This just made Pepper sob more.

By this time, Rhodes and Steve had made it outside and Rhodey gently took Pepper from Nat's embrace. Steve looked at her questioningly, and she just burrowed herself into his chest, silent tears falling.

It was true, who knew where the hell Tony (and anyone else) may be. It could be weeks before they find him. Hopefully, wherever he was, he had food and oxygen.

*.*.*.*

Pepper sat on the couch in the living room, wrapped in a blanket, and held a cup of steaming tea in her hands. At her brief insistence, they continued their original conversation about ideas for what's next.

"Maybe I can actually use my scientific degrees for something, and not the Big Guy." Bruce felt like making a joke about it, but he held off.

"What about you, Steve?"

He was honestly embarrassed at his admission, "I have no idea."

On that encouraging note, everyone splintered into their own groups to formulate their ideas in more depth.

Nat nudged Steve's side and leaned against him. "Still inspiring others, I see."

"Yeah, sure, a leader who doesn't know what the fuck he wants to do or how to lead."

"Did Captain America just say _fuck_?" Pepper asked faintly.

Although she later felt guilty for laughing, Natasha laughed at her friend's question. It was genuine laughter, the happy feeling bubbling up and diminishing just as fast. "He did!"

"What a bad influence you've ... uh, you've —" She lurched from her seat, spilling the tea everywhere, and ran for the closest bathroom.

Steve was silently puzzled at her actions, while Natasha was avidly curious as what happened. Then they heard the retching from the bathroom.

"Oh, poor Pepper. This must be so hard for her." He murmured as he nuzzled Natasha's hair and kissed her head. "This whole thing is just a disaster." Being Captain America he wasn't going to make an upset woman clean up her mess, so he went to the kitchen to grab some towels to sop up the tea.

Natasha slowly walked to the bathroom and knocked hesitantly on the door, "Pep? Is there anything I can do?"

"You can come in, and sit with me." It was a vulnerable request, as normal Pepper would probably never ask anyone (except maybe Tony) to do this for her. Acknowledging this, she opened the door and took in the sight before her. Pepper was leaning against the cabinets and looked paler than usual. The sink was running and her face was damp from either sweat, tears, water, or all of the above. Natasha turned off the sink and handed her a towel. She accepted it and rubbed it over her face as Nat sat beside her.

"He got in that stupid spaceship." Pepper whispered, shaking her head back and forth. "After Germany, he said he was done. We were getting married. We ..." she sighed and let her head fall on Nat's shoulder. "He doesn't even know."

Frowning and eyebrows furrowing, Natasha asked slowly, "he doesn't know what?"

A pause. "I'm pregnant ... and he ran after a spaceship before I could tell him."

A baby. Tony and Pepper were gonna have a baby. Oh my god, this is huge! "Pepper, that's incredible," Natasha grinned, "you guys are gonna have a kid!"

"A kid who might be fatherless," Pepper muttered bitterly.

"Pep, do you feel deep down in your soul that he's gone?" She shook her head and played with her fingers. "He's missing, Pepper, that's all. Since you don't feel that heartache, that despair, that desolation, I don't think you believe he's dead."

They're quiet for a few moments. She's pretty sure Pepper's holding back tears. "How long have you known?"

She swallowed and sniffed back some of the tears. "Uh, a few days, maybe a week. I couldn't figure out how to tell him, I wanted to be creative, but nothing seemed right. Then, the morning of the spaceship, he tells me he had a dream where we had a kid. We had a daughter, Morgan. He was about to ask me if I was pregnant, but then Banner showed up all freaked out and it was all forgotten." She laughed a little. "Now I realize I should've just told him when I had the chance."

"Hey, you'll have the chance again." Natasha assured her. "C'mon, you need to rest. I can take you to Tony's room."

"He ... he has a room here?"

"Everyone has a room here."

Steve didn't say anything when Natasha led Pepper upstairs. Once she realized that the whole room smelled like him and she got comfortable in the bed, she fell asleep so quickly. When Natasha returned, Steve looked up from the display screen. "Is she okay?"

She thought about snapping at him that her fiancé and father of her child being missing, but that took too much energy. "She's sleeping. Hopefully, she'll feel a little better in a while."

He nodded. "What are we gonna do about finding Tony?"

Natasha shook her head sadly and curled up into his side. "I have no idea where to even begin looking."

He sighed and pulled her closer. "Me neither."

"We'll think of something. He was wearing a suit when he left, according to Pepper."

"Is there a way to track the suit?"

*.*.*.*

They elected Nat to be their spokesperson, as she had been before the split. The powers of the world wanted to figure out what happens next, in terms of the Avengers, Thanos, and world order. They asked for a meeting to which Natasha be grudgingly went to.

"What happened, Miss Romanoff?"

"Well, we had yet another alien invasion, this time by the children and army of Thanos. His goal was to collect these stones and become the most powerful being in the universe."

"And he was successful?"

"Obviously," she scoffed, "he managed to obtain all the stones and overpowered all of the superheroes on Earth. We tried to stop him, we really really tried, he initiated this massive population wipeout."

"Will he be coming back?"

"We do not believe so, no. He did what he wanted and he left."

"So he won't come back."

"We are also locating his whereabouts as we speak."

"Now, a lot of you signed the Sokovia Accords, which means you broke the law. You, Captain Rogers, Miss Maximoff, and Mr. Wilson were in hiding. Why shouldn't we arrest you?"

She scoffed and looked him dead in the eyes. "If you want to arrest me, arrest me. If you want to round us all up and put in a maximum security detention center, do it. To be honest, sir … we were fighting as hard as we could — not only for the people of the world, but for the people we loved personally — and no amount of aid from the Peace Police would've helped. Arrest me, arrest _all_ _of_ _us_ … if that's what quiets your guilty consciences, if that's what eases your troubled minds, just _arrest_ … _us_. But we're all mourning too. You think _you're_ hurt and upset and angry? Well, so are we. We're the ones that lost this battle, we lost our own friends and family just like you did. And if you think that we're taking this lightly, that we won't feel this loss every day for the rest of our lives … you're kidding yourselves. Punish us all you want — but know that we're already punishing ourselves more than you know. Don't turn us into your scapegoat."

*.*.*.*

In the immediate aftermath of the snap, there was a lot of fear, anger, and confusion. Things didn't make sense, people were disappearing before their loved ones' eyes, places were destroyed. And yet, in the morning, people went to gatherings to find hope. Some people volunteered to help others reunite. Some people went to work (or what was left of it).

As each remaining Avenger began their own undertaking, Steve still didn't know what to do. He took to the streets and helped the clean up crews and he helped those who needed to rebuild. He helped find missing people, and he was one of the only people who could handle the sight of the copious dead bodies.

Natasha came up with a computer program that could be implemented at every shelter and center for a speedier reunification process. She bounced from youth center to youth center, encouraging them to accept her program even though, yes, she was technically still a criminal as she hadn't been pardoned. It wouldn't instantly fix things or immediately put families back together, but it will … in time.

The kids, whether they were really young or teenagers, latched on to her. While in hiding, she really became fond of children. They had talked about the future and children and being normal … although all thoughts of which had been pushed to the back of her mind. There wasn't time. It wasn't even a possibility — she can't get pregnant, the Red Room did enough damage to her uterus — but damn if she didn't wish things were different.

*.*.*.*

Steve had decided to finally shave off his beard, hoping it would somehow force him to move forward. Natasha sat on the counter next to the sink, staring at her crossed feet, and she sighed, leaning her head back. Rocket had told them that the _Benatar_ had a three-week supply of oxygen, and as they reached day 21, everyone's faith dwindled faster.

"I don't know what to do if we don't find him," Natasha whispered, "I don't know how to tell Pepper, I don't know what to do for her."

He shook his head after taking a final swipe through his beard. "We just be there. We'll be there for her and help her through it." He heard her sigh and placed a hand on her knee, squeezing it comfortingly. "Through it all," he repeated, nodded reassuringly. He took a towel and wiped his face clean of excess shaving cream. Suddenly, the room started to vibrate and there was a whooshing noise outside the building. Steve helped Nat off the counter and rushed outside with Rhodey, Pepper, and Rocket trailing closely behind.

It was Captain Marvel, Carol Danvers, whatever, and she was bringing the _Benatar_ down to Earth. The ship landed and they all held their breath as the door slowly opened, revealing Nebula helping Tony stay upright. Steve rushed up the steps and helped her walk him down. Pepper was crying silently next to Nat.

Tony stumbled off the stairs and kept mumbling to Steve, "couldn't stop him."

"Neither could I," Steve said, keeping him upright.

"I lost the kid," he confessed softly. He turned to Pepper and said it again with tears in his eyes, "I lost the kid." She shook her head, signaling that right now, he was alive and they were going to be okay. She pulled him into her arms and hushed him.

Rocket started to climb up the stairs to enter the spaceship, but Nebula stopped him. "Nebula?" She didn't say anything, only shook her head. "Oh man."

It was a sad night, and it was an even worse morning, but somehow, someway, the remaining members of the Avengers found their own place in the new world left over from Thanos' snap.


	7. seven - the nightmare I wake in

**Here's chapter seven! ****I appreciate all the favorites and follows, but I'd like to know what you guys are thinking, so please leave me some reviews. **

***.*.*.***

**seven - the nightmare I wake in**

_the pill I keep takin'  
__the nightmare I wake in  
__there's nothin'  
__no nothin'  
__nothin' but you_

Who in their right fucking mind would be calling at 1:43 in the goddamn morning?

The phone stopped ringing and sleep was almost back when it rang again. Groaning, she reached for the phone and answered the call with a groggy "what?"

"You said that I could call if I ... need a person to talk to, and I know it's like 2 in the morning but I don't really know — I don't really have anyone else to call..."

His voice sounded so small. He didn't sound frightened or exasperated, only tired with perhaps a hint of embarrassment. She felt bad for him. She had said that if he needed someone, she'd be there. She knew that he had been overwhelmed with all the things that had changed since 1945. Technology, world relations, social relations, medicine, transportation, Peggy.

"Natasha?"

She was pulled out of her thoughts when he said her name. "Ye — yeah, yeah, I'll be there in a minute."

He paused and replied, "thank you."

It was more like ten minutes before she was at his door. For some reason she was nervous. They had been ruder than necessary when they first met. They also were the youngest of the six Avengers, even though he was born in the 1920s (this happened to be one of the facts she made fun of quite a bit.) Their mean jabs had become more like teasing comments as the ice thawed, so to speak.

He opened the door in pajama pants and a t-shirt. She had on sweats and a tank top under her full-zip sweatshirt. They each thought the other looked pretty cute. He gave her a sleepy smile and she returned it as she entered the apartment.

"Can't sleep?"

"More like can't go back to sleep," he muttered and closed the door behind her.

"Bad dream?"

"If I said yes, would you make fun of me?"

She _was_ tempted to say yes, even make a joke, but it probably wasn't a good idea. "No, because I have them too. Comes with the territory, I guess."

He chuckled and admitted, "I didn't have them until I was 'defrosted'." She smirked at the use of the term she had coined for the discovery of his body. "Although, I'm not sure why."

Natasha shrugged, "who knows why the brain does anything?"

He was quick with a response: "Probably Stark."

She let out a short laugh and nodded her head in agreement. "So what would you like to ... do?"

Steve couldn't think of a witty remark — it _was _two in the morning — and just shrugged. "We could just sit ... and talk, maybe? I don't know."

"Sounds pretty lame," Natasha drawled, but she sat down on his couch and put her feet up on his coffee table. "But okay."

It was hard at first, making small talk and becoming comfortable with the uncomfortable silences, but they worked through it. This type of late night meeting became almost like a ritual for them. For them to talk about the fluffy stuff made it easier to work together. Steve and Natasha fell into a routine of spending an obscene amount of time together, and it was usually okay. Sometimes they found a topic that caused a rift in the well-oiled machine, but they found their way back to level ground.

It was the start of a friendship. Steve was more open to being a friend to Natasha than Natasha was to being his friend, but that wasn't out of the ordinary. He asked Fury and Agent Hill how to get her to open up and they both shook their heads while laughing: Natasha? Open up? You're dreaming, kid. Clint gave him a similar answer, but there was another key piece of advice: She takes time, a lot of time, don't let it deter you. She's a fierce protector and a loyal teammate and friend (once you get to that point).

Steve hoped he would get to that point.

*.*.*.*

He was supposed to come over this evening, he was supposed to make pasta, and he was supposed to stay and watch a movie she'd been dying to show him.

They were sent on an undercover mission to Brooklyn. Brooklyn. It was the first time Steve had been there since before the super serum, before the wars, before it _all_ changed, so naturally it was pretty overwhelming. Fury and Maria weren't sure if he could handle it, but Natasha assured them he could and that she would be with him in case anything happened.

Nothing did happen.

The mission went fine. In addition to actually doing their jobs, Steve showed her the building he grew up in (which had a plaque to commemorate it) and a few other places in the city that held some significance to the great Captain America.

It was the trip back that was a little … bumpy.

It was a virtual snowstorm by the time they were supposed to board the Quinjet and fly back to DC. Therefore, there was no way to get home without taking the train. Steve sort of tensed up at that revelation, but it was the train or stay in Brooklyn.

Steve sat next to Natasha for the beginning of the trip, but he couldn't sit still. He couldn't stop bouncing is leg and fidgeting with a rolled up newspaper. She noticed his unease and slowly touched his shoulder. He was extremely startled and whipped his head around to look at her.

She was caught off guard by this reaction. "Geez, I'd tell ya to chill, but then I might lose ya for another seventy years."

He let out a humorless laugh and got up from his seat. Not knowing where to go, he decided to stand and hold on to the rail instead.

"C'mon, that was funny! You have to give me some credit."

"Yeah, yeah, it was … yeah! Good one, ya got me."

Natasha's eyebrows knitted together, but she shrugged it off and returned to her magazine. She didn't notice how his grip got tighter with every jostle of the train or how a sweat broke out along his hairline.

He had been quiet when they parted ways after the debrief, but he promised he would be over later for dinner.

He was supposed to be at her apartment an hour ago, and when she called him, it went straight to voicemail. She tried not to panic — it had been a long and emotionally draining mission, maybe he fell asleep after a warm shower, or maybe he was just running late.

But Natasha couldn't shake the bad feeling that was resting in the pit of her stomach. She shrugged on her winter coat and pulled on her boots, and she headed for his apartment. She knocked on his door, but she didn't receive an answer. She knocked a few more times and even called his name through the door before trying to open it. It was unlocked.

The apartment was cold and there was a light breeze blowing through it, like there was a window open. But it was 17 degrees outside, why would there be a window open?

She got her answer. Steve was standing on the fire escape, staring at the ground below, hands clutching the railing, jaw clenched and shoulders tense. He was certainly not dressed for the frigid temperatures.

"Steve?" She said his name quietly, as not to startle him. With no response given, she climbed out the window onto the fire escape. "Steve?"

He wasn't there with her. He was physically, but certainly not mentally. Wherever he was, it was not Washington DC in December of 2013.

She'd seen attacks before, the heightened or dulled senses, the numbing of the body, the glazed looks, the pale skin, the quickened pulse.

This was a PTSD attack.

She tried saying his name again, "Steve?" but to no avail. She slowly reached out a hand and grasped his wrist. His skin was cold beneath her fingers and she was worried he'd been out in the bad weather too long. Her other hand rested on his shoulder blade. He blinked when he felt her hands on him, but he didn't move.

Natasha worried her bottom lip and pulled his hands off the railing. "Steve, you're here with me, Natasha. You're here in 2013."

He flinched at her words, but he didn't make any sudden movements or noises. He wasn't seeing her, he was looking through her to a land that existed long before she did.

It was PTSD. There was no doubt in her mind. Being in Brooklyn had triggered an attack. She vaguely wondered if he had been outside on his fire escape since they parted ways three hours earlier.

"Steve, you are cold," Natasha whispered and tried pulling him to the warm shelter of his apartment. "You need to come with me, okay?" Even with no verbal response, she knew some part of him registered her statement because he walked with her to the window and climbed through it.

She sat him down on the couch and wrapped a blanket around him. She closed the window and turned up the heat. When she returned, his body was shaking, either from the change in temperature or he was in the worst of it now. Natasha wasn't sure what to do, she never had a person be with her when she experienced it, or else she'd be following their lead.

"Steve, what can I do?" Natasha whispered with her head in one hand, her other hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry you're hurting, please, what should I do?"

Again, there was no verbal response. She just sighed and hugged him close. She closed her eyes — she was still not entirely comfortable with the whole human contact thing — and tried to will positive energy into Steve's body. He was still shaking, but as his head rested on her shoulder, he gripped the blanket tighter and squeezed his eyes shut.

More physical responses were better than no responses at all, Natasha thought.

Although she was not sure what brought it on, Natasha softly humming lullabies that she heard when she was a child. She wasn't sure if they were doing any good or making it all worse (they were _Russian_ lullabies), but Steve stopped shaking and his breathing started to even out.

Some time later, Steve raised his head off of her shoulder and looked at her and his surroundings. His eyes were no longer glazed over and he wasn't holding onto the blanket or her sweatshirt with a vice-like grip. "Natasha?" His voice was hoarse and full of confusion.

"You were late for dinner and I came over here to check on you. You were standing outside on the fire escape wearing just your pants. I know you're a super human, but even I think that's a bit much." She tried to not let the fear into her voice, by playing it off with a joke. "I think you were experiencing a PTSD episode, and I think it was brought on by being in Brooklyn." She took a steadying breath. "I shouldn't have pushed so hard, I'm sorry."

Steve wasn't saying or doing anything. He just looked even more confused. "What's PTSD?"

Natasha blinked, once again forgetting that he wasn't around for the discovery of that disorder. "It's uh ... it's Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It's a mental health condition where people, people who have witnessed terrible, really terrible things have difficulty overcoming them and coping with them in their day-to-day lives." Natasha shrugged, half-heartedly. "A lot of veterans experience it, along with assault victims. The term and diagnosis was first used in the early 80s."

"What, uh ... what are the symptoms?"

"Either heightened or dulled senses. Flashbacks. Nightmares. Anxiety. Aggressive behavior sometimes. Self-destructive behavior. There's many, many more."

Steve sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "That doesn't sound like something you can have if you're Captain America."

Natasha gave him a small smile, "I think you have come into a new millennium and there are things that are very different now. This diagnosis wasn't around in 1945, but you would still feel this way if you hadn't crashed into the Atlantic Ocean because you still had witnessed and/or been a part of upsetting events."

"You just listed some pretty debilitating symptoms, Natasha."

"Do you know how many people had or have PTSD? Do you know how many get help and can function like a healthy human being?"

"Well, no —"

"Then you're going to get help! You're going to work through it, and you are going to remain as Captain America, and we'll never get on another train again, okay?" Her voice was stern yet full of optimism.

He laughed at her train comment, "Are you sure?"

"Everyone has demons, Steve, it's how you deal with them that matters."

*.*.*.*

Natasha awoke with a start and she didn't know where the hell she was. It was dark but it smelled funny. What she was laying on was _not _soft and she was in the most uncomfortable position ever. She slowly sat up and realized where she was and why she was there.

Counter-terrorism S.T.R.I.K.E team with Steve and Rumlow. Recovering data. Flash drives. Bubblegum. Helicarriers. Alexander Pierce and his creepy ass. Fury assassination. The Winter Soldier. Escape. Sam. New Jersey? Arnim Zola. The Winter Soldier. Fury's alive, what the fuck? Bucky Barnes? The Potomac River. Steve in the Potomac River.

They were in a hospital room, and Steve was lying in the bed with cuts and bruises all over his body and his wrist was fractured. He had been shot in the stomach. She had been sleeping with her head on his blanket-covered thigh, and her sudden movement had caused Steve to groan and shift in his sleep. Natasha bit her lip and hoped he wouldn't wake up. The three of them had been through so much in the last — _fuck_ — three days? — and they all needed rest. However, all of S.H.I.E.L.D's secrets were now public knowledge. Meaning all of her bad deeds were now public knowledge.

"Natasha?"

"Sam, hi," she responded quietly, "how are you?"

"Tired as fuck, how're you?" She shrugged her shoulders and didn't respond. She just kept looking at Steve. "The Winter Soldier really drug him out of the water, huh?"

"I guess, no one else did it. He kept trying to talk sense into the Winter Soldier, telling him he was Bucky Barnes, but I don't think he is capable of rational thought when he is in the soldier mentality."

They were quiet for a few more moments before Sam asked, "what are you going to do now?" Again, Natasha just shrugged her shoulders. "Am I foolish to think that you'll stay with us?"

"Foolish? No, no, I'd love to stay with you guys, but I need to ... I need to do some things first."

Suddenly her hand was being squeezed, so she looked down and saw that she had been holding Steve's hand this whole time. He was squeezing her hand in a comforting way, suddenly conscious and whispering, "Natasha, it's okay. Do what you need to do."

"But if you need me —"

"Nat, we'll be fine … but we'll know how to reach you."

*.*.*.*

Natasha knocked on Steve's bedroom doorframe. It was pretty late, almost 1 am, but she couldn't sleep. Perhaps she was getting too comfortable with their sleeping patterns (and their sleeping positions), but it was inevitable — she couldn't fall asleep without him.

It had been a hard day of training with Wanda, mentally exhausting and full of arguing, so she took a hot bath and expected to fall asleep quickly.

She did not.

Steve looked up from his book and smiled in surprise. "Hey," he put the bookmark to hold his place, "I thought you'd be asleep by now."

"Yeah, me too," she rolled her eyes and sat on the bed. "I can't fall into the glorious dreamland. I can tell I'm overtired and I really, really need to get some sleep."

"Is this your way of asking if you can sleep here?" He asked with humor in his voice.

She shrugged sheepishly and climbed in. She was always thankful that he could understand and anticipate what she needed, and she hoped he wouldn't shy away when she made one final request of the evening.

"I know you're reading, but uh … can you just … hold me?" She got quieter as she spoke and avoided his eyes. It was, to her, an embarrassing desire, and the longer it took him to answer the more self-conscious she felt.

"Uh, ye — yeah, I can do that." He put the book on the bedside table and turned off the light. "How do you …?"

She smiled at his hesitance, because she knew he didn't want her to feel uncomfortable with him so close. "You can get comfortable and then I'll situate myself too, I guess." The way they were discussing the concept of _cuddling_ was truly cringe-worthy as they were treating it with such caution.

Steve laid on his back and she curled up into his side with her head resting on his shoulder and her hands resting against the side of his torso. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer, allowing her to sink farther into him. He felt calm and contented with her so close, and he squeezed her once more before closing his eyes. He listened to the sound of her breathing in and out and waited until it slowed, signaling that she was finally asleep.

His day hadn't been as tough as hers, but with her sleeping in his hold, he began to feel sleepy as well. It was cute to have her ask him to hold her, although half of the time they end up cuddling or spooning anyway, and she enjoyed it. She wouldn't admit it to anyone else, only him when she was waking up in the morning with that sweet smile, cat-like stretch, and small yawn.

In the morning, Wanda noticed that Nat wasn't in her room, the living room, or Steve's office. They were supposed to continue from yesterday, which had been admittedly difficult. She wanted to apologize for being so … uncooperative. It had been tough adjusting to this lifestyle where she wasn't expected to destroy but protect. She felt lost, especially without Pietro. He always anchored her, kept her in control, but he was gone, and there wasn't anything she could do about it.

Wanda passed by Steve's room, hoping that he could give her some insight as to where Natasha was, only to notice (through the small crack between the door and the frame) that they were both in bed, still asleep. He had his arm wrapped around her middle, spooning her and keeping her shielded from the morning sun streaming in through the window. She looked peaceful in her sleep, and Wanda smiled to herself. She quietly walked back to the kitchen to find Sam.

"Hey Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Are Steve and Natasha, like … together?"

He chuckled, "You know, I don't have a straight answer for you, even _I_ don't know. I can tell you that I've walked in on them spooning too many times to keep track."

"So they aren't in a relationship?"

"Honestly, they should be. But they aren't."

"Why not?"

Sam shrugged, entertained by the teenager's confusion. "Because they're both idiots."

*.*.*.*

Steve had just gotten to sleep a few hours prior and Natasha had fallen asleep hours before. Sometimes he just liked watching her sleep, before she was pregnant, before they were together, even when they were just friends. Usually she looked so peaceful and calm while she slept, even in times of war. Now, she had her arm resting on her baby bump and her head was facing him, but her face was full of distress — brows furrowed, mouth frowning, and face wet with tears.

"Natasha," Steve whispered and pulled her closer, "Nat, sweetheart, wake up. It's just a bad dream." He ran his hand through her hair and wiped the tears. "Nattie, it's okay." He continued to whisper in her ear until she awoke with a gasp.

"Steve?" She sobbed out his name and placed her arms around his neck to hug him close. He wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her back while she cried. He placed a hand on her bump and was relieved to feel their baby kicking away, probably awoken by Natasha's increased heart rate and the sound of her voice. "It was horrible," Natasha choked out, still crying.

"I know," Steve murmured into her hair, "I know."

"Everything was gone. You and the baby ... you were just gone. It wasn't because of the snap, you just didn't exist!" Natasha was catching her breath but was still upset about the dream. "I felt lost."

"Well we aren't going anywhere. You're stuck with us for good, my love," he kissed her forehead and cheek. "We aren't going anywhere."

"But even in my worst ... my worst dreams, I never thought that any person would be capable of taking away my ... family," Natasha said shakily as she wiped away her tears. "Pepper told me that the nightmares would be bad but, uh, that one felt so real."

"Well, it wasn't," Steve whispered, holding her hands in his. "Nothing, and I mean, _nothing_ can take me away from you."

"Things happen, though," she bit her lip and placed her one hand on the top of her belly, "sometimes they're good things. But most of the time, they're bad things."

He knew she was going to argue every point he would make, so he just decided to validate her worries. "There's always going to be good and bad things ... but all we can do it enjoy the good and prepare for the bad." He placed both hands on either side of her baby bump and kissed it and then her. "We're going to have a baby, and it's going to be amazing."

She sniffled and nodded in agreement. "About that … do you want to find out about the baby's gender? Dr. Quimby said we could probably find out next week."

"I'd like to. I don't know why Tony and Pepper aren't, but I'd like to."

"I think it's because Tony is adamant that it's a girl because of his dream," she smiled. "I'd like to know too."

"Do you have any … maternal guesses?" He grinned.

"I do," she nodded, "but I don't plan on sharing."


	8. eight - my love

**Just a reminder that I like to take some ... creative liberties with my writing. But I hope you call enjoy it.**

***.*.*.***

**eight - my love**

_my perfect rock bottom  
beautiful trauma  
my love, my love, my drug oh_

He was so precious.

He was as long as Steve's forearm. His head fit perfectly in Natasha's hand. He had reddish-brown wispy hair. His cheeks were perfectly full and he had pouty lips that parted every so often to yawn or squeal.

He was the most beautiful little baby. He gave baby Morgan (now seven weeks old) a run for her money.

Steve and Natasha hadn't really spoken to each other since he was born, just a lot of 'ooh'ing and 'ahh'ing and watery smiles and sweet kisses. He had just been transferred from Steve's hold back to Natasha's awaiting arms. She held him with ease and stared at him with joy.

"Do you still want James to be somewhere in his name?" She asked Steve softly, shifting her gaze from her son's angelic face to her partner's baby blues. God, can their son inherit his eyes?

Steve smiled at her and gently pushed her damp hair away from her face. "If you want to," he nodded.

"I'd be honored," she replied hoarsely, kissing his cheek.

"What names did you like?"

"I liked a few … but I think I know what I want him to be named," she grinned and nodded at Steve and the doctors.

The doctors had to take him to get the measurements, extra tests, vaccinations, and more. Natasha asked Steve to go with him while the nurses helped her into a new hospital gown and room.

As Steve stood outside the nursery, watching his son — _his son _— get cleaned up and checked out, Tony walked up to him.

"Hey! How's the baby?"

"He's perfect," Steve whispered back like he was in the room with the sleeping babies. "He's the one getting swaddled now."

Tony grinned at Steve's awe. He had experienced this seven weeks ago, and he had felt like he was in a daze. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or maybe it was that having simply a child changes a person indefinitely. "He's a sweet-looking baby, man. Held him yet?"

Steve nodded, "and I was scared out of my mind." He chuckled and turned to look at Tony. "Natasha is a pro. There's no way I could do it."

"She does have a great partner." Tony said, complimenting his friend.

"Oh, I was just the cheerleader," they laughed. "She was a goddess throughout the whole delivery. I don't know how she did it, the crazy tough contractions and the painful pushing … wow, I'm amazed."

"A woman's body is incredible."

The goofy grin never left Steve's face as his son was placed in his little basinet. His eyes were still closed but he was squirming in his bed. Steve wanted nothing more than to snatch him up and hold him forever. Tony probably felt the same way when Morgan was born.

"Hey, how's Pepper? Morgan?"

"Pepper's doing great! I blink and Morgan grows another inch and gains another pound. I guess I hafta stop blinking." Tony grins at the thought of his wife and daughter. "Morgan might be this little guy's best friend. Does he have a name?"

He grinned over at him, "I'll let Nat tell you."

*.*.*.*

Pepper was confused as to why Natasha begged her to come out to the compound today, alone. She sounded a little worried on the phone, and she also sounded out of breath. Pepper asked if she was hurt, and she assured her she was not, but she didn't believe her.

"Pepper, thank god," Natasha threw her arms around the other woman's neck.

"Tasha, what's wrong?"

She shook her head and motioned to her bedroom. Once they got there, Pepper sat on the bed as Natasha paced around the room. "Have … have I ever told you about my training as a KGB assassin?"

"Uh, no, you have not," Pepper shook her head, wondering where the hell this was going.

"Okay, well, to fast track, as our 'graduation' from the training, we get to experience the loveliness that is scarring. They … they insert some metal object and, and scar our uterus. They do such a good job that they prevent anything from possibly … holding us back."

"Oh, god, I'm so sorry. They make it so you can't …"

"Yeah," Nat nodded, "as I've gotten older, I y'know have a period here or there, but nothing is ever … regular."

"Okay, Nat, you gotta give me more, I'm very confused."

"I'm throwing up at random smells and I … and I am exhausted and I feel bloated and I cannot think of any reason other than the very slim possibility that I am pregnant too."

"… oh." Pepper was in a stunned silence.

"I don't know what to do, Pep." She whispered, shook her head, and leaned against the wall.

"Well, you're going to take a pregnancy test."

"… I kind of already did."

Pepper spluttered, "Uh, uh, what did it — what did it say?"

"I haven't exactly … looked at it."

"So it's just sitting there in the bathroom?"

"Yup."

"Well let's go look at it!"

"No!"

"Why?"

"Because what if I'm just … what if I just want to be … pregnant? What if I just want a child, after spending so much time with all the kids at the shelters and then you're having a kid, maybe I'm just overreaching…" she rambled on, shaking her head.

"There's only one way to find out, Natasha." Pepper whispered. Natasha inhaled shakily, but nodded in agreement. They walked into the bathroom, Natasha behind Pepper.

Pepper grabbed the test and flipped it over. "Well, Natasha —"

"It's negative, isn't it? I made you drive all the way out here for no reason, I'm sorry, I was just —"

"Nat, it's positive."

"… what? It's positive?"

Pepper put the stick in her hand and pointed at the two lines. "That means it's positive, you're pregnant."

"Wait, but aren't there, y'know, false positives? Should I take another one, just to be sure?"

Pepper chuckled, "if you want to take another one, we can do that. If it will assuage your concerns, let's do it."

She took four more pregnancy tests.

All positive.

Steve didn't get back to the compound until almost 11, and he expected Natasha to be asleep or almost asleep. She was not. She was sitting on the couch, staring at the television, but not really watching it. "Hey, I thought you'd be in bed."

"No, no, I've been waiting for you."

He smiled and kissed her as he sat next to her. "How are you feeling? Any better from this morning?"

"Yeah, actually. I think I know why I was … feeling like that."

"Oh, did one of the kids give you a bug?"

"No, I … uh," she chuckled and looked down at her hands, "uh … Steve, I'm pregnant."

He titled his head, a look of 'what-the-flip-flap-paddy-whack-are-you-talking-about?' on his face. His mouth was ajar, shoulders slumped forward, eyes wide. "I'm … you're … what?"

She grinned at his disbelief, and she grabbed his hand. "I'm pregnant. We're going … we're going to have a baby."

His eyes travelled down to her midsection, and his face broke out into a big goofy grin as he placed his palm on her abdomen. "Oh my god … how?"

"I'd like to think you would know how —"

"No, no, I mean … are you sure?"

"I think five pregnancy tests pretty much confirms it, yeah."

"Oh my god!" He laughed and pulled her into his lap, hugging her to him and protectively wrapping his arms around her. "Oh my god, we're going to have a baby."

She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck, placing her head on his shoulder. "I know, I know." She was suddenly overcome with the feeling to cry and tears welled up in her eyes. "I just … I feel guilty." He kissed her head, silently asking why. "I feel so … happy, but it's only been five weeks since the snap. I feel like I should still be mourning, but I'm celebrating instead. I know Thanos is dead, but I'm still worried."

"I understand," he murmured, "but I think they would be so happy for us. They'd be betting on when he or she would be born, whether it's a boy or girl."

"You're not wrong," Natasha laughed through her tears.

"I think this is our nudge towards the future. A reminder for us that there is a future to look to."

"Maybe you're right," she admitted, "but you remember how I told you about —"

"Yes, of course."

"What if … what if there's too much scarring?" She started crying again. "What if I'll just miscarry? I finally get a chance to … have a family and I could lose it at any moment." He didn't know how to answer her question, so he just held her closer and kissed her hair.

"How about we go to a doctor tomorrow?" He suggested slowly. She wasn't always a fan of doctors. "We can have some questions answered, make it a little easier to breathe." She nodded against his shoulder, grateful that he was logical while she was so emotional and so scared. "C'mon, let's get some sleep," he whispered and carried her to bed. Sleep would maybe help them both adjust to this big news.

*.*.*.*

Steve and Natasha came home from the the nearest obstetrician's office in a daze. Dr. Quimby was very nice; she spent an hour with them, talking about the realities of pregnancy over 30 (even if she was a "superhero") and with a severely scarred uterus. Regardless, Nat's tests looked good, and Dr. Quimby pulled up the sonogram machine to have a "look inside" her uterus.

Natasha hadn't seen what her uterus looked like in years, not since her initial S.H.I.E.L.D physical. There was more scarring that she remembered, or maybe it was because she was more aware of it now. But it did not escape her notice that there was one area in particular that had nothing. It was the perfect area for a fertilized egg to latch on. At least, that's what Dr. Quimby said. And that's just what happened.

The steady _whoosh_ _whoosh_ _whoosh_ of the heartbeat echoed through Natasha's mind as they walked in through the door.

Rhodey, who had weaseled out of them where they were going, jokingly asked, "So, are you pregnant?"

Still in a daze, Nat nodded her head, "… ye — yeah, I am."

There was pin drop silence before he asked, "What?"

"Believe me buddy, that's how I feel," she snapped.

"You're actually … with child?" He didn't really believe her. Was this a joke too? Was she messing with him?

She sighed and placed the image of her womb on the display table and pulled up the hologram. "This is the scarring from the Red Room, and that tiny area up here? That's the only place that isn't scarred. That's where the teeny tiny embryo latched on to my uterine wall and is now growing."

"Holy shit."

Steve nodded in agreement as Natasha sarcastically said, "I've had three periods in four years and now, I'm pregnant."

"It was probably the super serum," Rhodey joked before he could stop himself.

She leaned against the ledge of the kitchen counter and wrapped her arms around herself. "I've heard that so many times, but now that I know … that there is going to be a child … I can't help but wonder if you're right."

"Regardless of the wonder that is this kid's conception, this is amazing, guys." Rhodey stood and hugged her and slapped Steve on the back. "You're gonna have a kid!"

Thor entered the room and smiled — for the first time in five weeks — at hearing the good news. "This is wonderful, congratulations. A round of whiskey for everyone — well not you, Natasha."

"Thor, it's 11 in the morning," Steve laughed.

"Oh please, what a human excuse!" He exclaimed and grabbed the whiskey.

The three of them clinked their glasses together and Rhodey toasted, "To a wonderful blessing that will be loved by all."

After Rhodey and Thor left the room, Natasha was still staring at the turning hologram and Steve wrapped his arms around her middle. She leaned back into his chest and he asked, "What are you thinking?"

She scoffed quietly, "I'm thinking about … how insane this is, but y'know, Rhodey's right. This is a blessing. This is a miracle. Half of our family is gone, but we are lucky enough to have created a new member. He or she is going to be … so loved." She turned around and he kept his arms wrapped around her. She pressed her cheek to his chest, happy to hear his heart beating steadily, and he rested his head on top of hers. "I'm still scared, damn I'm so scared, but I'm not alone. I have you."

"Of course you have me, love, of course." He kissed her head, trying to convey how much he loved her and believed in her. She smiled and let him kiss her passionately. They tried to keep it low-key when they got back and after the snap — it wasn't like everyone who walked in and out of the compound needed to know they were together. However, they were so used to doing everything together that it didn't take a mastermind to figure it out. So, while they were inside their home, they allowed the affection and the closeness and the love to be on display.

Still didn't stop people from walking in on them though.

*.*.*.*

The first trimester is always rough for pregnant women, but it was like ten times worse for Natasha. The nausea, the moodiness, the exhaustion, and the back pain all sucked. It was worse than Pepper's first trimester, which had obviously been filled with fear and worry in addition to the normal effects of pregnancy.

Natasha was curled up into a ball in her and Steve's bed one afternoon, unable to stand for fear of vomiting again and unable to uncurl her body as this was the only position her back didn't hurt in. It was Thor who found her. He was supposed to tell her that Rhodey was leaving for Central America and he wanted to say goodbye, but the words died on his lips at the sight of her like this.

Thor always admired Natasha. She was a strong and capable woman, the first woman Avenger, the first _woman_ superhero really. He knew she had been through some serious shit and was always stunned at her fighting skills and marksmanship. He knew that she could easily kill him, and that's what made him respect her honestly. It sounded horrible now, but knowing that she was just as skilled as he was, only in different ways, made him truly respect her. She took the quips and the remarks with a grain a salt, easily batting them away with her own witty comments. Seeing her like this made him want to do something to help her.

"Natasha?" He called her name quietly, hoping not to scare her. Her eyes flicked up at his and she smiled briefly, telling him it was okay to enter. She was in a deeply vulnerable state, her letting him in the room was a giant step. "I wanted to uh … see if I could do anything for you."

"There's really nothing you can do, unless you have some magical Asgardian remedy for all the effects of a first trimester pregnancy," she answered.

"And if I knew of one?" Thor questioned.

"Then I would say what the hell took you so long to bring it up." She chuckled despite herself. "I would also ask if it was safe for humans."

"I would answer that I hadn't thought of it until I saw you in this much pain and that it was, as far as I know, safe for humans to consume."

"Then I say that bringing it here as fast as possible would be magnificent."

It worked like a fucking charm. She felt so much better. She ate, she slept, she could stand up, she could think clearly. She could go to the youth centers and not snap at anyone, and she could have a conversation with Steve without crying. What's even better is that Natasha's gratefulness encouraged Thor to return to his people in New Asgard.

*.*.*.*

Natasha was laying on the couch, looking at spreadsheets from various Orphan Centers in and around New York with her feet propped up on Steve's lap. "Does it surprise you that there is a specific demographic of children in each area? Orphaned kids that were from rural areas moved to suburban, suburban moved to urban, urban moved to rural. It's slightly odd."

"With no parents, they can do whatever they think they want."

"Hopefully it won't turn into _Lord of the Flies_."

"Lord of the _what_?"

"_Lord of the Flies_? It's a book about a group of kids who created their own society and it's pretty graphic and ugly and ohh! —" She placed her hands on stomach where she felt the weird movement — "Oh!"

Steve started panicking, scrambling to hold her stomach in his hands. "What! What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, nothing, I think … I think the baby just kicked!" She laughed when it happened again. "There! did you feel it?"

He grinned slowly, his hand splayed across the left side of her small bump, and he whispered, "I did … this is unreal."

"It's terrifying, Steve. There's a little person that's growing inside me. They're gonna need love and safety, warmth and happiness. We're responsible for that."

"Nattie, this baby, our baby, is proof … that life goes on. Even after all the shit that we've been through, life is pushing us forward."

She smiled through her watery eyes and kissed him softly. She mumbled playfully, "Language, Rogers."

*.*.*.*

"Are you going to help me? I thought you said you were going to help me."

"I'm supervising."

"From the rocking chair."

"I'm also reading about the third trimester."

"Which is important, I suppose. I think that wall might need another coat."

"I don't know, I like that it's lighter blue. Besides, I want you to draw something."

"Like what?"

"I don't know … maybe planes flying around the sun or the moon and some clouds? Cute little propeller planes, not giant ones."

"I could probably sketch something up tomorrow. Haven't drawn in a while though."

"It's like riding a bike, right?"

"I'm not sure that's how it works, Nat."

"Oh sure it is."

She was grinning widely, a hand wrapped around her swollen belly and her hair was starting to grow in red again. Steve had never seen her in a more perfect state of being.

*.*.*.*

The nursery was finished, all the was left was to put the baby's name on the wall above the crib. There was a bassinet in their room ready, and all the gifts people insisted on bringing to the baby party (they didn't call it a shower, it wasn't all that baby-themed) were placed in their respective homes.

She was resting in the rocker, pushing herself back and forth as she thought about the next steps. She would be giving birth soon and then bringing home their son. She was getting more nervous as the days got closer to her due date. Although she had to be realistic, Morgan was born a week late, and Dr. Quimby reminded her that a due date was only an estimation if they don't know the exact date of conception, which they didn't.

She was so deep in her thoughts that she didn't hear Steve lightly knock on the door and enter the room. "Hey, there you are. Are you okay?"

She nodded and stretched a little in the rocker. "Yeah, I'm just thinking too much."

"About … ?"

She sighed and ran her hand over her belly. "I'm just nervous. I don't … I don't want to screw this up. I wasn't raised by a family, how am I supposed to do this? I have no idea what to do. I don't know what to expect, even after reading that book."

Steve sat on the ottoman and held her hands in his. "Natasha, your maternal instincts will kick in."

"But what if they don't? What if I'm a horrible mother?"

"You won't be, you know this. The kids at the centers love you, you're amazing with them." She shrugged, knowing his words were true, but refused to believe them. "He's our son, you're going to be the best mom to him. He's going to love you so much."

She sniffed and nodded. "He's gonna love you so much too. You're going to be great."

He grinned and kissed her lightly. "Any more thoughts to a name?"

"Eh, I have a few. Nothing … feels right."

Steve hesitated before suggesting, "We could always name him James."

"After Bucky?"

"Yeah … if you want."

She smiled and nodded, "I like it. I'll think about it."

*.*.*.*

Her water broke a little before six in the morning on the 18th of January. They had been awake most of the night timing the contractions, although luckily Nat had managed to get a few hours of sleep before they were too disrupting. They had seen Dr. Quimby the previous afternoon, who had announced that she was almost 100% effaced (whatever the hell that was), and the mucus plug (again, whatever the hell that was) was passed. They also came to the conclusion that the contractions were regularly twenty minutes apart. Dr. Quimby expected to see them within 24 hours when her water broke.

"Are you ready to push, Natasha?" Dr. Quimby asked her. Nat was drenched in sweat from the seventeen hours of contractions, but she didn't back down (as if she had a choice). She nodded and gripped Steve's hand.

"This is it," Steve whispered in her ear and kissed her temple. "You're so incredible."

"I haven't done anything yet," she responded in a high voice, already experiencing a pressure that felt much different than a normal contraction.

"Yes, you have, you've done a lot," he chuckled, squeezing her hand as the doctor began counting down from ten. "10, 9, 8, 7 —"

She groaned in pain, squeezing his hand so tight it would've hurt him if he didn't have the super serum in his veins. "Almost there, love, it's almost over," he squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

"2, 1, relax! That was great Natasha, pushes just like that will make this go quickly." Dr. Quimby praised. Nat nodded as the nurse dabbed her forehead and neck with a damp towel. "Push again."

Natasha obeyed and grit her teeth as she pushed as hard as she could. It had been a long nine months and this hurt beyond belief, but she could do it. A low groan escaped her lips as the last few seconds of this push ended.

"Don't forget to breathe, love," Steve reminded her, pushing back her mussed hair.

"Oh, shut up," she snapped. There was too much pain for him to constantly remind her to breathe, it was wasted energy.

Dr. Quimby chuckled at their comments and rubbed Natasha's ankle soothingly. "He's not wrong, Natasha, focusing on your breathing is a good way to make it through each push during labor. Now, push!"

"He read the damn books," she said through gritted teeth, "he read all the d — damn bo … oks! Oh god … Steve!" She was moaning in pain, but she was pushing dutifully. The hand that wasn't in his grasped onto his forearm, her nails digging into his skin. If it hurt, he didn't say anything, he just smoothed back her hair and reminded her of his presence.

"I'm right here, baby, I'm right here." Steve was continuously amazed at her strength. She'd been through hell, the KGB and the Red Room, all the wars they'd fought together, the people they lost. And here she was, giving him the greatest gift of all, a child.

The contractions and the subsequent pushing lasted for what felt like forever. There were tears falling down her face as it lasted longer and longer.

"This hurts so much," she gasped for air, trying to breathe through the pain and the tears. Steve wiped them away with the damp cloth, kissing her head lovingly.

"I know, and if I could take away the pain, I would," he promised.

"I should've gone for the drugs," she whimpered.

"Keep pushing sweetie, you're doing great," the nurse urged her.

"'Be … be his … part — partner, Natasha,'" she complained in between breaths, "'you'll … you'll w — work well toge … together,' he said, _well_ _fuck that!_" Steve couldn't help but laugh at her statement, and she sent him a death glare as she squeezed his hand a little harder. He kissed her forehead and wiped the sweat away from her face while remaining as her personal breathing coach and cheerleader.

"Who's the 'he'?" Dr. Quimby asked out of curiously. She'd heard a lot of stories during labor and delivery, but her patients have never been _superheroes_. Natasha was such a good patient, and she was listening to the doctor's birthing cues, so maybe distracting her would help.

"Nick Fury, the bastard!"

She pushed for a little bit longer, and at 1:32 in the morning, Dr. Quimby said, "he's crowning hun, one more push, one more. It has to be the strongest push yet."

"But I'm so tired," she mumbled, leaning into his shoulder and arm.

"I know, but one more and you get to meet your son."

Steve was whispering words of encouragement in her ear and squeezing her shoulder, "You can do it, you're the strongest woman I know." She mumbled thank-you and began to push, focusing on his whispered words and his strength. His weight anchored her to the bed, reminding her that he was there and he wasn't leaving, he loved her and he hated how much pain she was in, he knew it was almost over and he was ready for the next part of this journey with her.

This was the most painful push yet, an actual wail escaped her throat. Her head fell back against Steve and she shut her eyes tight as she pushed and pushed and pushed … until a baby's cry was heard in the room. Natasha lifted her head and Dr. Quimby held up the reddest, loudest, squirmiest baby she'd ever seen and announced, "Baby Boy Rogers is here at … 1:34!"

"Oh my god," she murmured at the sight of _her_ _son_. He was so small. New tears sprang into her eyes and she looked up at Steve to see a similar look of wonder. This baby they created, _their_ _child_, was here and healthy after eighteen hours of labor and delivery.

It was a blur but soon her boy, bundled in a white hospital blanket, was being placed in her arms. He stopped wailing almost immediately, and his nose un-crinkled. "He knows it's his mama holding him now," Dr. Quimby commented in a hushed voice, "because he can hear your heartbeat."

"That's incredible," Natasha breathed, looking down at him, and she gently rubbed his cheek with the pad of her finger. He was so soft.

"You're incredible," Steve whispered, still holding onto her shoulder, and kissed her forehead. "This is the most amazing thing to ever happen. Ever."

She smiled brightly at him, and they shared a chaste kiss on the lips. "I love you," she murmured.

"I love you too," he placed another kiss on her forehead before bending down a little to kiss his son on the top of his head. "And I love you, little one."

Natasha smiled at her boys. This truly was the most amazing thing … ever.

*.*.*.*

Tony came into Natasha's room a little after 2:30. The baby boy had been returned to his mom and Steve told him that he could come in after they try breast-feeding. At this point, Steve was holding him while Natasha was laying back against the bed.

"Hey Nat, how are you feeling?" Tony asked, leaning down to kiss her head.

She smiled wide, happy to see him. "I'm so tired, but he's so perfect, I never want him to leave my side."

"He is a cute kid," Tony nodded and grinned, "nice hair." It was true, the baby did inherit his mother's hair. "So I'm dying to know — "

"So you can brag about knowing it first?" Steve joked.

"Oh shush," he chastised, "what's his name?"

He looked expectantly at Nat, who proudly said, "His name is James Oliver Rogers. We're going to call him Oliver, but I wanted Bucky to be a part of it too."

"It's a really strong name, Natasha, I like it." Tony complimented, stroking Oliver's head. "Hey, Oliver … why did you pick Oliver?"

"It means olive tree, and on olive trees are olive branches, a symbol of peace," she murmured, placing a hand on Oliver's swaddled belly. "Peace, because we are no longer at war with the greatest threat we've ever seen. Peace, because we are rebuilding now."


	9. nine - you punched a hole in the wall

nine - you punched a hole in the wall

_you punched a hole in the wall and I framed it  
__I wish I could feel things like you  
__everyone's chasing  
__that holy feeling  
__and if we don't stay lit  
__we'll blow out_

Natasha sat in a chair in the control room of the Raft. She knew he wouldn't go anywhere without breaking his team out of prison. She'd already done the dirty work for him — that was knocking out the guards and overriding the security feed — and how she just waited.

She didn't have to wait very long. She heard him coming, even though he was probably the quietest walker she'd ever met. He stepped slowly into the control room and he couldn't mask her surprise when he saw the guards on the floor and her in the chair instead. "Nattie?"

She smiled sadly at the use of her nickname and stood from the chair. "There are … there are so many things I would like to say, but right now we don't have much time before they —" she jerked her thumb towards the unconscious guards — "come to. Let's get the hell out of here." She moved to pass him, but he grabbed her wrist to stall her. "Steve, we don't have time."

"I just … I wanted to ask why you were here," he looked almost sheepish as the words fell out of his mouth. "Why are you here?"

Repeating the sentiment she had uttered only a few days ago in the church, she whispered, "I didn't want you to be alone." She was sorry, so so sorry, but there would be time for that later. She was so upset at how out-of-hand this whole situation had become, so pissed at his and Tony's actions, so surprised by her own feelings. "I don't regret letting you and Bucky go, please don't make me change my mind."

Steve wanted to kiss her so damn bad and thank her for her act of defiance against Tony. He wanted to tell her everything, but she was right: they didn't have much time. Instead, he smiled down at her and agreed, "let's bust our friends out of this hellhole."

When Steve and Natasha entered the cell block and disabled the alarm system, Clint wasn't surprised to see her with him. In fact, it made him happy. The last few days were absolute shit. Steve was in a shitty mood, so was Natasha. The two of them didn't do well when they were fighting over something, and neither of them slept or ate. They refused to listen to reason. Clint tried his best to listen to Steve's morale check, but he saw the way Natasha was looking at him and how Steve's eyes were brighter than before. Clint glanced over at Sam and Wanda, who had definitely noticed it too.

Sam told them about the kiss (how could he not?!) and now the three of them were happy to see "Mom and Dad" together again.

Making decisions was harder yet still somehow easier with them on the same side. Finding a place to hide would be difficult. They expected they would have to be hiding out in hotel after hotel. Clint agreed that was a good idea for a while but after the whirlwind of everything they could settle down somewhere until the next big thing happened. Clint mentioned his old friend's townhome in Southern Ireland, which was still under the alias his friend used to use for missions.

A townhome in Ireland? How domestic could they get?

(They already had been pretty domestic at the Avengers compound, let's be real.)

"Who's coming with me?" Steve asked. For a moment, he was incredibly insecure and wondered if no one would be on his side ever again after breaking up the Avengers.

It was a stupid moment, obviously.

Sam looked at him like he was stupid and said he was coming.

Wanda desperately wanted to come.

Scott was so ready to go with them, but then he remembered his daughter and decided to cut a deal. Clint had done enough to disappoint his family and was going to do the same.

Steve looked expectantly at Natasha. She crossed her arms and tilted her head with a look of contemplation on her face. She couldn't keep it up though and laughed. "Of course I'm coming with you, don't look at me like I've kicked your dog."

*.*.*.*

They had found a somewhat seedy motel that wouldn't bring a whole lot of attention to itself in Amsterdam. Before Natasha left New York, she had gathered items for Steve, Sam, and Wanda, like the basic necessities but also a few personal items. Vision had caught her, to which she assumed that he would stop her, but he helped her escape with everything they needed. She also drained her and Steve's bank accounts to ensure one of their problems _not_ being money.

Once they were in an actual bed, both Sam and Wanda were out like a light. That process was much more difficult for Natasha and Steve.

"We shouldn't all sleep at the same time. We need someone to keep a lookout."

"Okay, I hear ya bugsy," Natasha whispered back and giggled.

"I'm being serious, Nat!" he scolded her quietly. "We can't all be asleep in case someone finds us here."

"Steve, the likelihood of all four of us being asleep at the same time is very very rare, you know this!"

"It just … hiding? Planning for various outcomes?" He shook his head and ran a hand down his face. "This is ridiculous."

Without thinking, she responds immediately with, "That's what happens when you cause a major fraction in the world's first superhero group." Hurt flashed across his face and she felt bad instantaneously. "No, Steve, I'm sorry … I —"

"No, you're —" he sighed — "you're right. It is my fault, it's all my fault."

"No, look, that was — that was uncalled for."

"Then why'd you say it?"

"I don't … I don't know. I just —"

"Felt like attacking me?"

"Steve, don't do this."

"Do what? It's about time you give me a lecture on my disappointing actions."

"But I don't want to. I'm tired. I know you did what you thought was the right thing. I know that me siding with Tony hurt you. I know that I can't make it up to you. But I'm tired. So please, god, let's just get some sleep so we can start this all over tomorrow. Now lay down and hold me dammit."

He complied, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her back flush against his torso. Her scent immediately overwhelmed him and then he was burying his face in her neck and spilling the truth.

"Bucky killed Tony's parents. So he almost killed Bucky, and I almost killed Tony." He whispered and swallowed roughly. "I almost killed him."

Natasha turned around in his grasp and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close. "It's okay," she murmured, running her hand through his hair, "it's okay."

He nodded into her hair, continuing with a thick voice, "T'Challa is allowing Bucky to remain in Wakanda until he gets … everything, all of his training, his brainwashing, out of his head. He, uh, he went under."

She felt her hair head get a little wet, and she remained quiet until she wondered, "are we going to check in … with him from time to time?"

He sniffled, "I'd love to, but I don't know if that's a great idea. Don't want to get caught." She nodded, understanding. "I'm … I'm …"

She shook her head and lifted her lips to his. It was soft and it surprised him. They hadn't kissed since before Lagos, and they had yet to talk about it. He responded quickly despite his surprise, but she pulled away before he could do or say anything else. "It's okay," she responded, "Steve, we're going to get through this. Together."

"You're not going to leave?"

She smiled sadly again, knowing that their trust was thoroughly damaged. "No, no I'm not." She pressed her forehead against his chest and closed her eyes. "Sleep, Steve, tomorrow is a new day."


	10. ten - who's gonna hafta die to remind us

**ten — who's gonna have to die to remind us**

_cause we've been on the run so long they can't find us  
who's gonna have to die to remind us  
that it feels like we chose this blindly  
now I'm gonna fuck up a hotel lobby_

Sometimes their love is slow and sensual. They would spend hours in bed leisurely touching each other and savoring their time together. He would memorize her body, tracing and kissing every mark, scar, and blemish on her. She would do the same on him. Sometimes he would feel it was necessary to be romantic and she would enjoy the way he caressed her.

Sometimes they fucked with reckless abandon, so rough that the bed moved and her head hit the bed frame. They would bite and claw and scratch at each other's bodies, using their knowledge of the other to elicit the reaction they wanted. It would be like a competition, who could get who to the brink first.

But … no matter how they had sex, she always knew he loved her, and he always knew she loved him.

They spent the afternoon in bed, as Sam had to work early and Wanda was off with Vision. They watched television and took a shower together and made love and cooked dinner while wearing minimal clothing. There was laughter and joy.

After dinner, they returned to bed and resumed making love.

**MMMMMMM!**

"Oh, Steve," Natasha gasped, clutching at his sides and tightening her legs around him, which deepened his thrusts into her core. "Oh, oh, baby …"

Steve groaned against her chest as he was kissing and sucking her breasts. One of his hands gripped her hipbone and pulled her hips into his with every drive into her. His other hand was pulling one of her legs higher, higher, until it rested on his shoulder.

She mewled in his ear, his actions driving her to her fifth — sixth? seventh? — orgasm of the day, and grabbed onto the headboard, desperate for something to hold on to. Her back arched, and she shrieked his name when he hit _the right fucking spot_.

Every time she made a noise, he lost a little more of his control. "Nattie," he mumbled, "Nat, you're killing me."

"Funny, you … you're killing me," she said breathily, pulling his head down to hers and captured his lips in a searing kiss. He lost the pace briefly, but he became more erratic when he resumed his thrusts. "Oh! Oh … god, Steve! Steve …"

He ground out her name, plunging deep into her over and over. "N … Nat, I'm —"

She nodded, unable to actually speak. High-pitched moans and gasps was all she could manage. "M' too," she gasped. Her back arched and his pelvis hit her clit. She practically screamed, scratching at his back desperately. His hands pulled her hips to his, keeping her back arched, and he bit and sucked on her neck. "Steve!" She actually screamed his name. "Steve … oh!" She seized up and pushed her hips into his relentlessly as she came, screaming wordlessly. It was one of the most intense orgasms as of late, something feeling altogether different about it. He groaned her name, his control slipping, and he pounded into her, experiencing his own release.

**(resume regular T rating)**

During the afterglow, Natasha was laying with his arm around her, her head on his shoulder, arm resting on his chest, hand holding onto his. Steve rubbed his knuckles up and down her arm, lightly kissing her hair.

She looked up at him and ran her hand through his damp hair. He smiled at her and kissed her softly. "What's going on in you head, love?"

"I was just … I was thinking that, if we are going to be in exile for the rest of our lives … there's no one else I'd rather be here with."

This was a vulnerable truth for her to admit, he knew, and he was glad she did. He had been thinking about this too. It had been two years since they ran, went underground. They had been together for a little more than a year. If they were normal people, this was when they start to talk about the future and what that meant for them. Whether it be … marriage or babies or traveling. Was it time for that conversation?

"There isn't else I'd be with either," he said, "and I think … I think we should talk."

"Well, I know you're not breaking up with me," she joked, rolling onto her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows, "so what's up?"

"We've been … underground for two years. We've been together for a year. I don't … I don't know … where we go from here," he turned onto his side, tracing a finger up and down her spine. "I just thinking about the future."

She sighed, whether it was from his admission or from her contentedness, he didn't know. "The future …"

"You don't think about it?"

"Of course I do," she answered automatically. "But I can't … I didn't think I would be able to have a normal future."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't … I can't have children, Steve. You know this."

"There are other ways to make a family, if you would want to start one. I know there's scarring, but —" he smiled cheekily — "ya never know. I've got some pretty powerful stuff coursing through my veins."

She chuckled and kissed him gently, "I suppose, but I think that's a long shot love." She shrugged, "But, I wouldn't be … opposed to it. I love spending time with the kids at the studio, and having … one of my own, would be — would be nice."

"I love watching you with them," he grinned, making circles on her back with his finger. "You're so good with them."

"So are you," she smiled. "What … uh, what would the first step be?"

"Of …?"

"Our future."

"Oh, well, we could get our own place for starters," he laughed a little. It wasn't uncommon for Sam or Wanda (and occasionally both) to get an eyeful (or earful) when they were "going at it."

Natasha giggled with him and stroked the stubble on his cheek. "Yeah, that _would_ be job one."

"Or we could just kick Sam and Wanda out," he joked and this just made Natasha laugh harder. For some reason, mentally envisioning the two of their faces when they're essentially kicked out of their own house was too funny.

"No, no, that would be mean!"

"Wow, you're telling me that my ideas are mean?" Steve pretended to look wounded. "I think it was only a few hours ago when you were doing some pretty devious things to my —"

They were cut off. The shrill ringing of Steve's phone echoed in the room, and Natasha bit back a groan. They were always interrupted at the most important times. "Ignore it," she whispered as he moved to get up.

"I can't," he had a far away look in his eyes, and his head jerked back to the phone's direction. "This is Tony's ringtone."

And suddenly, all talks of their future and everything involved were halted.

After speaking on the phone for a few moments, Steve slowly hung up the phone and looked back at her. He wanted to say that he was sorry. He wanted to forget the phone call and go back to their talk about babies, because that's what he wanted. He wanted to remain hidden in Ireland with his best girl and have a family. He wanted to go to work at the library and her to teach the students at the studio how to dance. He wanted to read the books he still hadn't gotten around to and he wanted to go to all the dance recitals and soccer games that his kids would go to.

But they weren't normal people. They had to answer the call, because _he_ gave Tony his word two years ago, and now there were people counting on _him_.

Natasha shook her head, wiping the tears from her eyes. She knew it was too good, their time in hiding, and that it had to end sometime. He didn't need to apologize, she thought, he didn't cause whatever danger was facing the world now. Yes, she wanted to stay, she wanted to ignore his insistence, she wanted to force him to stay. She wanted to have the family they had just dreamed up. She wanted to be normal, just for once.

But they weren't normal people. They had to answer the call, because he gave Tony _their_ word two years ago, and now there were people counting on _them_.


End file.
